Raincaller
by Bloodstained Hands
Summary: The Alliance and Horde have lived with a shaky peace that rules the land. But towns are burning on both sides now, and each blames the other. Only Yawna, a young tauren with a prophecy over her head, and her friends, may be able to re piece the alliance.
1. A Child of Legend

Raincaller: The Alliance and Horde have lived with a shaky peace that rules the land. But towns are burning on both sides now and each blames the other. Only Yawna, a young tauren with a prophecy over her head and her friends may be able to re-piece the alliance and quell the fires that burn on both sides.

((A/N)): Okay, so this is my very first fan fiction of Warcraft. I stumbled upon this riveting game just after Christmas, so I'm not that far into it. A level nine tauren huntress can only really go so far. Amazingly, I have read the book, The Day of The Dragon, and was captivated by it. This brings me no closer to owning the entire game. None the less, this is not my first fan fiction and I promise to try and keep it as pure as possible. Then again, the Warcraft Purists should keep away like it was a burning hell. NOT HISTORICALLY WARCRAFT CORRECT! Forgive me for mistakes and feel free to flame, critiquing my work only makes it stronger.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft. I don't even pretend to. Blizzard does (I pledge my allegiance, to the Blizz…) No matter how hard I threaten, Blizzard will not give me the rights to own Warcraft. Damn them.

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Chapter One: A Child of Legends 

The fire was warm. It smelt like ambercorn, like her mother, like the trees. It smelt like the land and the rivers and the lakes and the paths. It smelt of the measures of man and all the lengths that they would take. It smelt like the taurens' problems, predicaments, and triumphs. But most of all, it smelt like a new beginning and a very bad end.

Those were some of the first conscious thoughts of Yawna. Even though the tauren was but a new-born calf she could feel the tension in the air, taste the dire words of the elders on her lips. Her soft nose twitched and caught the smell of the fire and all the scents that it's smoke cloaked within. Then Yawna laughed.

It was nothing but a baby's giggle, soft and light. But in the room that was hung heavy with the grim thoughts of battle scarred tauren elders, warriors, and seers the laugh was a sign. It told them that The Earthmother was still watching and protecting them. A few inhabitants of the large hut only found puzzlement from their confidence though.

The first were a large pair of orcs. They were hulking down next to a few tauren and dwarfing the bovine warriors. Bulging cords of muscles rippled along their heavy forearms and legs. There were two, a male and a female, dressed in heavy mail and carrying two handed axes that could have cleaved straight through a heavy oak and then halfway into the steel armor of an Alliance dwarf.

The two did not seem bothered by the calf's laugh, but the stopped in mid sentence, glancing in the direction of the baby as if they hadn't seen it before then. Beside them the second pair of inhabitants followed their gaze.

The two new inhabitants were trolls. Their long ears tickled the back of the hut's leathery walls. They had wild, shaggy mane's of hair, one a deep red and the other a midnight purple. A male and female again, the two trolls nodded patiently, tusks bobbing up and down from green-tinted lips. But a few tauren down the circle another strange face sneered with open contempt.

The undead scoffed, what was left of his rotting mouth twisting into a lopsided frown. Garbed in armor made from the gravestone's of men the undead appeared as some ghostly reincarnation of all men's fears. His sunken eyes crossed through the crowd and pinned the baby and her mother to the wall. To the tauren he reeked of the smell of death and Yawna whimpered softly. He was Thralk, a name easy for a decaying mouth to spit out with little trouble.

"Why do we have to bring a child into a war circle?" demanded the undead, his eyes narrowing, "I think it best that the enemy have no available leaks."

"Peace, brother." the female troll interrupted smoothly, her voice hinted with the exotic accent of the jungle. She put a hand up and continued, "The child will bring no harm. We are in the Tauren's land and if they wish it so then we must agree. You must try and be a good guest Thralk."

"If you say so Meh'rah." The undead summoner settled to himself, his thoughts placed elsewhere. He was only marginally concerned with the toils of this meeting. Thralk had more important things to do… far more important.

"Continue with what you were saying, Baine." Me'rah offered, her voice smooth and silky still. It was easy to see that she was the peacekeeper of the meeting. Beside her the male troll smiled to himself, for Meh'rah was his wife.

From the very head of the council stood an impressive tauren. His long horns tickled the top of the hut and the fire seemed to inhale itself and step away from him. Baine Hardhoof was an notable figure. His lineage spread back over generations as ages and ages of Baine Hardhoofs ruled over Hardhoof Village. They were prosperous and this was no exception to his long-revered family. He was dressed in only the finest cured leather and startling brilliant feathers. Steel and other glinting metals that danced along with a huge gun slung across his shoulder made him look dangerous.

"As I had begun to tell you, the dwarfs are moving in. Just the other day a scout reported that they were digging a tunnel through the mountains to our east. They are moving swifter than we supposed at first." Baine looked down at Yawna and her mother, his steely eyes softening. " It is terribly obvious that we can not allow this. The daughter of Kiel proves this. Kiel is but one of the many mothers who is with a child now. Kiel and whom ever she has chosen as a mate are now pressed for more food and supplies."

Her Baine paused and during that time the mother of Yawna, Kiel, glanced across the fire. Her eyes met the eyes of another tauren, a large spotted male sitting away from her. Makar nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. Yes, he and his soon-to-be-wife and their daughter would need much more. The dwarves could not move in on their land now.

"So it is my wish to insist that you help us. We hope to lead a group of our warriors to the mountains and fend back to dwarves. Of course, this will only temporarily solve the problem that is at hand. I have thought ahead though." From a sac that hung from the tauren leader's waist the grave commander produced a bar of something rectangular and black. It had a small string poking from the top, dangerous and daring in the hands of Baine.

Yawna opened her mouth and her tongue tasted the gunpowder on the air. The calf rolled the taste around in her mouth for a moment and savored it's coppery taste. It was menace and savior all at once.

"Dynamite." the male orc offered, his nose curling almost disdainfully. "That hasn't been used in years. The destructive power of that stuff is amazing and you, Baine Hardhoof of all people, are now proposing to use it?"

Baine nodded, his horns bobbing up and down. He held up the small stick of dynamite and looked around the room, lingering his steely gaze upon the taurens. When he began to speak the faces around the fire seemed to freeze. All but Thralk that was, for he suddenly became eager.

"I am not asking the other races, for solely this is the problem of the tauren. But the dynamite can only be lit from up close and the fuse is short. I propose to distract the dwarf, light the fuse, and send their tunnel crashing down under the weight of the mountain that they now defile. If any tauren among you choose to lead the attack and light the fuse than I am only asking of you a suicidal mission. But I do ask it of you, my tauren. Who among you will be brave enough to try this daring feat?"

The fire was silent. Even it seemed to hold it's breath, waiting for the answer to the question. Everyone looked down, looked away, looked anywhere but where Baine now stood and pleaded them to give his or her life for their city. All the tauren had children to think of, all had wives or families that depended on them.

"I will." The voice was strong and determined as the speaker stood. Even Baine seemed shadowed by the massive tauren that stood before him, for the strength of that statement gave the speaker power and mind. Indeed, Makar was an impressive sight.

"No." Kiel let the word slip from her lips and she hugged tight the calf in the sling around her neck. "You mustn't." She could not help herself. The words tore from her as if propelled from someone else. Makar and her had a future, a child, responsibility that she knew did not come before their village but still felt it should.

"Yes," Makar replied smoothly but firmly. He forced himself to look at Baine instead, ignoring his love kneeling on the floor. "I will lead the attack and light the fuse. And, if needed, I will join the Earthmother and look down onto you all."

Baine bowed to the bull, his eyes full of gratitude. The rest of the room was silent, how ever. The tauren bull would have little or no chance to return, and almost all eyes scanned to Kiel. It was painfully obvious to most why she didn't wish Makar to lead the attack, and the way she clutched the calf in her arms now told them that she too understood the consequences of Makar's choice.

The meeting concluded and the members of the war circle filed out of the warm hut. The cool air met them, winds blowing across prairie grasses. The melodious notes of a wolf's howl echoed across a full-moon night and the very sound of living creatures sent shivers up Kiel's spine. She turned, watching Makar hunker across the village and towards his home.

"Wait," she called, her voice catching in her throat. Kiel's hooves battered across the path, her mane flinging out behind her as she pulled herself towards the bull. He stopped, not turning but instead waiting for her to reach him. Makar had promised to serve his town, and he would, but he tore himself in half doing so.

"I do what I must for my people," Makar said now, though he still didn't turn. He was running his finger up and down the hilt of his mighty axe, something he did often when nervous. The blade sat atop carved oak stronger then the tauren's own arm.

"But know, that you will always come first in my eyes and heart." Makar sighed as he looked down at Yawna, his calf, their calf. The baby resembled him strongly with her black and white spotted fur and a thin mane of deep black hair. Stubs of horns that poked from Yawna's forehead were glossy black with a blue sheen that spoke of her health.

"I know," Kiel replied softly, "I just wish that you spoke with your heart instead of you mind."

* * *

It was just five days after the soldiers left. Just four days after they had reached their destination. Just three days after the fighting had began and smoke rose over the edge of the world. Just two days after the mountain came crashing down on hundreds of dwarves, taurens, orcs, trolls, and undead alike. Just one after Makar had died.

The news had come swiftly in the hands of five scouts who had survived the battle. Wounded and exhausted they told the tale to the entire town from it's square. Those who did not listen there still learned fast. News traveled like brushfire and in under half of an hour from the arrival of the scouts everyone knew what had happened at the Battle of the Falling Mountain.

Kiel had found out in under five minutes.

Holt was a good friend of Makar. He sought out the mother of his calf as soon as he returned to Hardhoof Village. With him he carried grave news and sorrow that would never really heal with Kiel.

Yawna did not recognize the cause of her mother's immediate tears, but she did recognize what the tauren talking to her carried. With him Holt had brought two of Makar's possessions.

The first was a small horn band. It was wide, leather with steel cuffs on either side. From it hung two glossy feathers the shades of a dying sun and a string that sparkled with beads that quite resembled the shades of plain sand in the full sun. They shined and winked, beckoning the young calf to reach towards the band.

The second was her father's axe. The handle had fared perfectly, years of perfecting the heavy handle had proven worth it when it escaped with barely a scratch. The axe head had not done quite so well though. It was dented and chipped, mottled down now and would hardly be worth much in the years to come.

"Makar gave me a message to give to you, Kiel, before he ran in to light the fuse. He said that you should seek the seer Two-Moons and bring the child to her. Also, that in the eyes and hearts of everyone that you associate with Makar and you were joined in holy matrimony the moment you first laid eyes on each other.

* * *

"The seer Two-Moons?" the guard repeated thoughtfully. He scratched his chin and then his eyes lit up as he remembered. "Oh yes, Madame, far to the west, but not that far. He lives in a hut atop a large knoll straying a bit of this path. Between here is only a few plain striders and maybe a wolf or o cougar or two. Will you be alright?"

"I can handle myself." Kiel replied steadily as her fingers tightened on her late husband's axe. Her voice had grown harder, her eyes icy and her mind rather manipulated. Since the death of Makar a year ago Kiel and her young child had suffered the loss of another parent. Money was always short, for money always had to be spent. On leather and sewing string, on ammo for Kiel's blunderbuss, on lessons in leatherworking and skinning for young Yawna, for food that could not be made hunting, and everything else that they could possibly need. It had taken a year for Kiel to work up enough money to be able to pay any seer, and now she was ready to see what had so spurred Makar to command her to visit Two-Moons.

Yawna skipped alongside her mother. Even though the calf was young she was swift and balanced on her heels. Her leather skirt swished around her heels and the calf's inquisitive eyes drank in everything. Never before had she been outside of Hardhoof Village, and the mere sight of a prairie wolf in the distance sent wonder to her young mind.

"Stay by me," Kiel warned her, already cocking her blunderbuss. The ornate carvings caught Yawna's eyes and once again she was distracted, her hands reaching up to touch the gold that encircled the bright red gun.

"Step back," her mother commanded. With a resounding crack the gun vibrated in Kiel's fingers. Yawna felt the air part, smelled the gunpowder on the air and tasted the power that seemed to emit from the gun in gushing amounts. But most of all, with Yawna's above-average acuteness the young tauren felt the pain that sliced through her shoulder. Like a bullet wound it was, splitting up her spine and shattering out. With tentative fingers Yawna reached to her shoulder. Had her own mother shot her? No, there was no blood, no dripping wound that would have marked an imbedded bullet.

She heard the yelp of a wolf. The creature was crossing the grass at top speed, blood running from its shoulder in large rivulets. Teeth pulled back into a snarl the wolf prepared itself for battle. It was a noble creature, but half starved, a creature of the prairie. It would not lose, it could not.

Three more bullets took it down. As the wolf fell Yawna felt a piece of her tear away. Yawna looked to her mother, her eyes watering over from the equal pain she had felt from four bullets that hadn't even hit her. Had her mother been affected the same way?

Kiel had felt nothing. She let the gun drop back into the holster at her side after blowing off the wide nose of the destructive weapon. Yawna could not understand why she had not felt it, but the calf had indeed felt the wolves pain.

"Should we skin it mother?" Yawna managed to croak out as they stepped past the body. The wolves eyes were still open and Yawna could swear she could see it accusing Kiel. From then on Yawna pledged she would never use a gun. It was not a fair fight.

"Leave it," Kiel commanded as she quickly hacked a chunk of meat from its flank and dropped it into their pack. "We haven't the time."

The seer's house rose on the horizon. It was a small hut of leather with a thatched roof that allowed smoke to pass through the top. Simple as it was Yawna felt power there too and the calf looked up again too check her mother's face for signs o this awareness. Nothing was there though, and for the first time in her life Yawna wondered whether it was only her who sensed it.

Yawna felt power in all things. She sensed it in the words that Baine spoke to his tribe as he prepped them for long, harsh seasons. She felt power in the herbs that the herbalists used to heal wounds. She felt it in the beast trainer of her town and in the beasts themselves that would sometimes stray close to Hardhoof Village. Once she had asked Kiel if she had felt something in the riding kodos in camp, but her mother had only looked at her child with puzzlement.

"Seer Two-Moons," Kiel announced her presence, holding forth a bag of one-hundred copper that would have equaled one silver. She bowed low though she saw no one and Yawna followed suite.

"I'm here, I'm here," A bull stepped from the hut. He was immense, though not as big as Makar had been. Dressed in long, decorated robes made of thin kodo leather and painted with berry juices and wines he made a magnificent sight. His face fur was dyed with two red streaks that ran from one ear to the other and over the bridge of his nose. "What is it you require?"

"I need you to read my child." Kiel pleaded, "I have to equivalent one silver with me, over a year's savings. Maybe it is enough?" Kiel already saw the dismissal on the old seer's face. He was known to ask for two, or even three silver for his services. But Kiel had to try, for soon her child may lose all chance to what Makar might have been trying to give her.

"That is not enough." Two-Moons replied as he made his way towards them. Yawna took a step backwards as she felt the strength in the old bull. He glanced at her not once, instead looking straight at Kiel. "What more would you have to offer?"

Kiel thought hard. She could spare nothing in order to live, except for….

"This," with a heavy sigh Kiel pulled forth the sunset-hued horn band, "It was my late husband's and all I have to offer that I can spare myself." She saw the seer studying it closely, his eyes squinting with thought. Finally he reached out and let the band and money drop into his hands.

Two-Moons opened his mouth to speak, but a strange look came over his face. He glanced at Yawna for the first time and then raised the band to his eyes again. He suddenly smiled to himself and pushed the horn band back to Kiel.

"For this reading only one silver will be enough. Come, sit by the fire and talk with me. Tell me everything in significance that has happened five days before the birth of the child and everything after."

Kiel followed the bovine oracle back to his fire, striding slightly ahead of her daughter and Two-Moons. When Yawna looked up at the psychic she couldn't help herself and she whispered softly to him, "You have great power."

The sage nodded almost expectantly. As he sat by the fire and listened to Kiel relay her tale his mind began to click. Even though his face did not show it the prophet was amazed. Even though her mother did not seem to realize Yawna had immense power. But according to the laws of a seer Two-Moons could only tell the two so much. The rest, Yawna must have to find on her own.

"This is what I have to say," the sibyl began, "From this day, Yawna is no longer just Yawna. She is Yawna Raincaller, and will learn in time that this is her rite. Also, that she will take the Rite of the Earthmother in five more years to this day and no more. She must also befriend those who feel her pain and who she feels as well. This is what the spirits have to say." Suddenly Two-Moons's head slumped on to his chest. Yawna froze, but she still felt his capacity and knew he had not died.

When Two-Moons spoke gain his voice was not his own. It was deeper than it had been before and much, much slower as if every syllable took humongous effort. Yawna felt herself almost loose interest as her mind began to wander, but then she snapped back in realization that what Two-Moons said would affect her life.

'_Bonds of friendship must be made_

_In order to disprove what lies have been laid._

_Where forces of hatred do conspire,_

_Only rain can quench the fire.'_

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((A/N)): So, that's it so far. Not much, but pretty long. Leave a review, tell me what you think. The next chapter will be 'An Unfavorable Price' that will take place five years from this chapter. A real twister. Hmm… Well I have no one to thank except for maybe my cat or my rat who both sat on my lap during the making of this chapter (thought not at the same time.) Leave a review! 0o)) 


	2. An Unfavorable Price

Disclaimer: No really, I think it's rather obvious that I don't own Warcraft. The game would be rather clichéd and horribly tragic if I did.

((A/N)): So here is chapter two of Raincaller. Thank you for those who left me reviews for the past chapter, which at the moment I write this is only one. Maybe there are more, because I am now reinstalling my damned netzero dial-up because it is apparently 'corrupted.' Oh well. A special thanks to Youkai no Miko (have to luv Inuyasha!) who left me an encouraging review on my grammatical errors and my story. Thanks a bunch.

* * *

Chapter 2: An Unfavorable Price

"For a long time the people of Hardhoof Village have watched you grow. We have watched you mature from the delicate calves that you were and into strong and respectful Tauren. You are one with the earth, one with nature, and soon you will be one with the Earth Mother as you complete your Rites." Baine finished his speech with a smile as he handed Yawna the hewed wooden cup. Even when he said this Baine had no idea how true his statements were to the young huntress.

It had been five long years since Yawna's first visit to Seer Two-Moons. She had long ago shed her calf's innocence and lack of responsibility and was now tied down with the weight of a working member of the Tauren society. Still she remained distant from her people, her mind always molding things differently than her bovine brethren. She felt her diversity even before Two-Moons had told her of it.

"You are not like them," He had dictated one day, his head nodding slightly as it always did when he was speaking. For the five years that Yawna had grown she had visited Two-Moons frequently. He was a mentor unlike her hunting trainer, for the oracle was her mentor of the mind.

"Your Awareness separates you from them." he nodded at the village in the distance, a smile playing across his maw as it always did when he spoke of the Awareness. This was the term that Two-Moons had applied to the strange ability Yawna had to sense the feelings of power, pain, and intelligence of living things. The sage was even pleased that Yawna was able to stretch her power forth and feel what is must be to be a rock of bead of dew.

"You have all completed the task before you," Baine continued his speech again to the three young Tauren who stood with Yawna and interrupted her from her thoughts, "And you have now all brought ten feathers from the Plainstriders that we share our land with. Drink the potion now and follow your individual visions."

Yawna closed her eyes as she tipped the cup to her lips. Before she did she spied her mother in the crowd closest to her, Kiel's eyes beading with un-cried tears of joy. Her mother had grown older and gray during the years passed, her stress robbing her life of more years than it should have. But the Tauren mother now looked on with pride as her child sucked down the ritual potion that would induce the Earth Mother to give her a vision.

It was like drinking a cloud or drawing in the mist. Yawna felt the liquid slip between her teeth and never before had her Awareness spread out so much. She felt the feelings of pride and sadness from not only her mother, but from every Tauren gathered about. She even stretched to the musings of the trees surrounding, the boredom of the rocks, and the sorrow of the dead Kodo mantles that hung from the large hut nearby. Then the vision came and blasted away this open feeling and Yawna stored it back inside.

First she saw that plains rushing underneath her as she was borne southeast from her own body. It was a feeling of flight and full freedom that bore her heart to her throat and made her pull in her breath as if her lungs would crumple.

Then she heard it, a long drawn out howl. It started as the rich tones of a wolf, low and melodious. But then it fraught horribly. It began to scale up and extend into what began as a guttural Tauren bellow and into an almost human-like scream. Yawna pressed her ears back onto her head and tried to block out a sound that would never fade away.

When she opened her eyes again her peers had already begun to run off in separate directions. They had left their own ritual cups with Baine and had wasted no time in running off to their destinies. But Yawna had already decided what she would do and if that howl meant anything than her quest would be a hard one.

The Tauren cleared away. They were not allowed to help with the Rites and unless a young tauren gave up and dishonored his or her family they would only be able to talk to traders or people on the Rites at the same time. Yawna was lucky to have two others with her on the quest though she knew they had different visions. Especially Bolo.

Yawna walked slowly to the weapon smith, smiling to herself as she thought about Bolo. The bull was born in the same moon circle as her and was just as smart and courageous as Yawna. Every time the bull sprang to her mind Yawna could feel a strange tingling in her stomach so much different than her Awareness. It made her look around to see Bolo starting off into the southeast as well. If she were lucky then she may catch him in time.

The weapon smith smiled as Yawna approached him. He already had most of his wares out, his paws tingling at the thought of his profits from the Rites. He also knew Yawna had been saving a long time, for Hardhoof was a small village and news traveled fast.

"What is it you require?" he asked politely and Yawna relished in the sound of another voice. It may be one of the last she would hear until her Rite was completed and she opened her mouth partially in order to savor it.

"A new axe head, sir." Hefting the large axe onto the table made Yawna smile. The handle was still as good as ever, polished rigorously every day by the cow huntress herself. It was Makar's old axe, but the blade was now beyond the repair. It was better as melted down steel than as an axe head now.

The trade master inspected the weapon with a trained eye. His orbs leveled down the handle and the size the blade would have to be. Calculating the price made his mouth twitch into a smile.

"Even the cheapest blade would cost fifty silver in order to balance the handle. I'll go down to forty-nine fifty for you though." He said nothing as the aspiring huntress's face fell. Yawna could almost feel her poverty in her hands. The meager amount that she had managed to scrape through these years would not even come close to the amount needed to retrieve her father's beaten glory.

Without answering the smith the young Tauren stomped off. Her old axe was clutched in her hands, her face blushed under her fur. It was foolish, ignorant, and rude to walk away from the helpful shop keeper but there was little more she could do. Her battered pride made it hard for her to admit defeat.

The unfavorable price made Yawna irritable, but soon the Tauren had better things to think of. Her hooves began to pound the grass and ahead she could see Bolo, his own steps eager with the prospect of earning his place at Thunder Bluff.

It was not long before Yawna had caught up. Her anger and embarrassment had been transformed into raw energy in her hooves. She could feel it, pulsing through her as she ran. Two-Moons had told her it was proof that she was getting more and more skilled.

"Bolo, wait!" she called out, her hands flinging up in an attempt to slow down. A nearby plainstrider flung itself from her path as she skidded to a stop, falling back onto her rear end. The bird-like beast clacked it's beak angrily, nipping her on the ear before plodding off.

"If it were anyone else," Bolo said, holding out a hand to help her out, "They would have been attacked by that plainstrider. But not you, never you Yawna." He chuckled to himself softly as Yawna brushed herself off.

Yawna blushed under her fur though. The thing that Two-Moons had absolutely forbidden was Yawna telling anyone in Hardhoof Village of her Awareness. He told her it would cause a panic or that she would be treated differently.

"I wouldn't have killed it," Yawna said very quietly. She had never killed anything in her life, from the beasts that roamed the area to butterflies that buzzed across her path. Skinning anything always made her sick to her stomach and the deadly power of the skinning knife seemed to burn her hands when she touched it. The knife was pain.

"They always run anyhow," Bolo replied with a shrug, "And especially if they a mutilated by your chipped axe. You'd be better to use your gun." Bolo nodded at the blunderbuss at her side. It swung from her side and seemed to leave a burning pain every time it touched her bare skin. The remark was a kind one, but Yawna's ears folded back against her sable mane of hair.

"Maybe," Yawna said uncertainly. She hated the gun. She hated everything about the weapon. Ever since its destructive power had been shown to her as a child she had never touched it again. The gun seemed to hold its own feeling of pain very unlike that of a wolf or tauren.

When Yawna had accompanied her mother on hunts she had felt every bullet fired from the gun as if it was aimed at her and not just some plainstrider or plain prowler. And this was the gun at the hands of her mother. She could only imagine what pain she would feel if it was her hand killing the beasts with the deadly bullets.

The two had been walking for a short time now and Bolo stopped, his head swinging to a cave nearby. It went without saying that this was the warrior's destination. He turned back to his friend, his deep eyes glittering with thought.

"We'll have to part now, though I don't doubt that I'll see you in just under a day or so." He paused almost uncertainly, his hooves suddenly becoming very interesting. When he spoke his voice wavered slightly at the beginning. Yawna's Awareness felt his hesitation and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint. It was the feeling she felt when her mother looked at her, but different somehow, similar but altered.

"There's a festival after we complete our tasks." Bolo stared hard at his hooves, "Save a dance for me, won't you?" Yawna's Awareness flowered. She smiled secretly and nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course." As they took different courses Yawna felt like skipping. Freedom graced her mind and a happy ending seemed in sight. Bolo was a tauren that she could see herself spending the rest of her life with. But of course, one such as Yawna does not just settle down and live in peace.

* * *

That night was cold. Despite the warmth in the sun the plains were different at night. She felt something stir softly in herself, but Yawna could think of only the hours she seemed to have wasted. She had searched vainly for hours, her eyes straining. But nothing could bring her to kill one of the nearby wolves, and she still felt as if that was not what she had been asked to do. It seemed too simple, and no wolf she knew howled like a banshee.

Yawna huddled deeper into her blanket, her body shivering violently. If she did not complete her quest she was allowed to return to the village but a stubborn pride made her stay. She could imagine Bolo and the other tauren who had taken the quest today. They would be gathered around a festival fire waiting for her appearance. In another day or two after they would send a search party for the body. She could imagine the embarrassment, to be found alive when she was supposed to be dead or victorious.

The cold had begun to get to her. Prairie winds whipped grass over her sleeping form and her Awareness seemed to freeze itself. Nothing moved for a while, then something within her Awareness stirred.

It was a tired feeling, a cold feeling, a weary feeling. But most of all was the desperate longing for another warm body. Yawna stiffened as the pelt of a wolf brushed against her.

He was an old wolf, no longer able to be an alpha. But in his prime the wolf would have been amazing, a real brute with strength like a bear. He was cunning still though, sly green eyes peering at the tauren mistress from under ebony brows. Where his pelt should have been a sandy or tan shade it was a dull black, hanging loose in places and showing signs of neglect. Even though the wolf did not attack Yawna felt herself bristle and tense.

The wolf settled against her, his warmth providing something small. The two creatures were silent for a moment, the company of each other held close before the two may have to resort to instinct.

That was when the howl began. Like before it started as the pure note of a wolf's, but rose higher in a tauren's bellow of pain and then into the human-like scream that filled the air with a desperate longing. Yawna's Awareness was torn to shreds at first, feeling only pain and sorrow. Then she felt an anger rising up in what ever had made that terrible cry. It gave her raw energy that seemed to blacken her heart. As quick as the old wolf had come to her he disappeared over a hill.

Something was coming.

Yawna first thought the sun was rising. She saw a dull fire on the horizon, a red blur rising over the hill. It was slow and deliberate like a rising storm cloud, the fire's of hell summoned from the ground.

Then the _thing_ came into full sight. Twice the size of the huntress it loomed on the nearby hill, a macabre smile gracing its maw. The creature was a wolf, or it might have been sometime. But now all that was left were bones. They were bleach white, a graveyard style dream that rose from the ground as if evoked by the Alliances need itself. The bones took a step forward, suspended in the shape of a wolf and consumed by hellish flames that danced over its entire form.

Yawna had found her quest.

Things seemed to move in slow motion at first, the creature taking slow steps forward as if biding its time. Yawna's Awareness had stretched out to it unwillingly, feeling the pain of the burning creature. It seemed as if she too was on fire, her skin searing along with this demonic monster's.

Then things sped up. Yawna propelled herself forward, every particle of her soul commanding her to kill this creature. Not only because it seemed that this was her quest, her Rite, but also because this demon was heading right for the home she loved. Hardhoof Village needed her.

When her axe struck the creature it bounced off. The bone was repellant to her attacks, the demon wolf not even flinching as she attacked it. Not only that, but as it walked the fire that curled around it danced straight into the dry plain grass and begun to consume it with small patches of burning paw prints.

Yawna really was burning now. She felt her fur begin to smolder the second time she lunged for the burning terror. Her axe head was melted to scrap now, a bit of the steel dripping off the end. But still the demon was advancing with its slow, methodical steps that made her mind seethe.

After a few more attacks the axe that Makar had so treasured spilt off of its handle. The steel was gone, just a smudge on the magnificent handle. Only Yawna's gun was left, but even as she brushed the barrel of the feared weapon her hand stung. She could not, _would not_ use that gun.

The demon opened jaws that dripped with pumice, small drops of fire smoldering the plains that Yawna had grown up. There was something so wrong with this, something so unnatural and so sick that Yawna broke.

Sobbing quietly to herself the tauren sank to the ground. She was so close to her village that she could now feel the people sleeping in their huts. In front of her eyes played a time to come that she could not prevent. Her vision stretched into the future, showing her Hardhoof Village under attack from flames. It burnt to the ground in front of her eyes, the home that she had known all her life. Hallucinations of every town burning across Mulgore and beyond came to her.

With a final ounce of strength Yawna rose again. Her body seemed to operate on its own and her mind seemed to tell her exactly what was to be done. Without hesitation Yawna hefted what was the heavy handle of her father's double-handed axe and flung it straight at the leg of the demon.

The wolf's back femur snapped off, falling from the rigid uniform of the skeletal bones and dropping to the ground. It clattered to the ground and the demon looked back with some impatience. But the bone loss did not seem to hinder the wolf and it began again, limping along on three legs as if the bone was broken but still there.

Yawna heard Bolo's voice over the roar of fire rushing in her ears. "Hardhoof Village is under attack. The Alliance has come." He seemed so full of spirit and courage that Yawna wanted to kneel beside him and allow him to take the reigns. But she could not even do that, for every ounce of strength had left her body. She sank to the prairie grasses once more and watched a terrible scene unfold before her.

It was not the wolf that Bolo had spotted, for only Yawna could really see the creature in full blaze. To others it was a wispy ghost, for even though the Taurens tried among them only Yawna and Two-Moons would have been close enough to the earth and right state of mind to realize the terror before them. No, Bolo had seen yet another threat.

A battle platoon of Alliance members had come. Dwarfs came brandishing anything from pick-axes to guns. Night elves' hands glowed with magic that enveloped the target in pain. Gnomes ran amuck, their attacks swift and brutal. And humans, the young race, came bearing all the courage that a new race is given.

The fighting would be quick. Hardhoof, so full of children and the elderly, bled that night. Cries of terror and pain rang out through the night air, and not more than a few feet from it all Yawna lay crumpled on the grass, her sobs racking the night with grief. The trees sagged at her pain, the rocks gave up their boredom to feel her sorrow. And all around the creatures of the plains gathered not far from the village, their own eyes witnessing the terror that night.

The town had caught fire. The Horde would blame the cruelty of the Alliance, and the Alliance would claim it the severe clumsiness of the Horde that night. Only Yawna saw the wolf roaming amongst the fighters, touching his nose to huts that burnt under his touch and left the smoking bodies of the dead inside.

Well, another did see it, but it would be the last thing he saw that night. Two-Moons surveyed this all very calmly from his hut far away. He had seen his young charge chase the demon across the plains, and now he presumed Yawna dead. His heart was heavy with sorrow, but he didn't know of the danger until the sword appeared from his chest.

"What?" Two-Moons choked, blood frothing on his lips. He felt the sword slide out again and a shadow stepped in front of him, smiling eerily on the burning night air. A human? No, an undead.

"Now you see, oracle, where this hatred begins. But you will never see it end." the undead hissed through decaying lips. He smiled as the seer's eyes widened and the last thoughts of an aged dying tauren were painful.

"Thralk?" Two-Moon's cried with his last breath, "But why?" As the tauren's eyes began to cloud and his breath leave his lungs his ears heard the reason.

"Because cow," Thralk hissed, his eyes blazing, "This peace has gone on long enough." Thralk kicked the dying sage in the stomach far after he had died, his rage bent into defeating the one who had opened Yawna to her potential.

"You have started something you should not have, and now Yawna Raincaller, the one who you thought was your savior lies dead in the grass, bleeding to her hearts content," Thralk hissed to the dead body, "Prepare yourself for the afterlife, oracle."

* * *

The fires had quelled down, the battle had been won, and through it all what had been hundreds of tauren now only five remained. Two were Baine Hardhoof and his mate. Three was their messenger, and four was a story teller that would later die of his wounds. Among the dead were Bolo, his heart pierced by the arrow of a skilled night elf. The body of Kiel lay also, her head finally able to rest.

"Listen." A dwarf commanded, his voice carrying to Yawna. It was daylight now, but Yawna had not moved. Her Awareness had stretched over the whole battlefield and every time someone had died she had felt a fragment of her soul go with them. She lay unable to move, her body drained and her heart pierced. She didn't want to move again, but she had not mercifully died under enemy fire.

"Listen," the dwarf repeated, "You have paid for the fire set to our village days ago. Now we leave five alive. Start again, but let it be known. The Alliance will not tolerate your trouble. We will exterminate you." With that the dwarf nodded and his cavalry and patrol thundered off leaving the village of Hardhoof buried under three inches of blood and bodies.

"Now you listen to me," Baine Hardhoof thundered loudly to the five assembled people. He wouldn't have to yell, but it felt good to stretch his anguish to the sky. "This village is no longer Hardhoof Village, and I am no longer Baine Hardhoof. From now on this land in Bloodhoof Village, and I am now Baine Bloodhoof. It will never be forgiven. Look at our dead elderly, look at our dead children, and look at our dead family, our dead neighbors, our dead friends. Look at the faces of the dead and weep. Those who have died have earned their place in Thunder Bluff forever."

Yawna hung her head slowly. She did not move because she was dead. Not in body, but in spirit Yawna had died. But the rest was still to come. She had won her place at Thunder Bluff, but it was at an unfavorable price.

"What do we have here." It was the smooth voice of a night elf. He was leaning over her, hid by a hut from the perspective of those in camp. "A humanoid cow wench. Not dead either." The elf prodded her with his staff. It was not their nature to be cruel, but this certain platoon had lost children and friends and family to the fire set at Stormwind days ago.

"Shall we take her?" a gruff dwarven voice asked and Yawna could feel his hot breath on her face. She winced away, her ears pushed back against her head.

"No, let's just play with her." The night elf offered, his staff coming up with surprising agility. It hit Yawna straight in her side, burning like a whip and making the young Tauren flinch.

'_But I'm dead.'_ Yawna reasoned to herself, '_The dead don't yell.'_ Yawna's own feeble mind had shut down. She was spiritless, and nothing would bring back what she had lost that night.

The dwarf brought down his axe then. This was far crueler. The ebony horns with the blue hue that Makar had marveled at were in its path. One of them was severed in half by the blade and this time Yawna did let a cry escape her lips. But it was too soft to alert the Tauren in what was now Bloodhoof Village and they did not come.

"She cries," remarked the dwarf as tears of grief spilled over the huntresses eyes. She buried her head further into the grass as her sensitive nose tried to escape the smoke and her Awareness leached the cruelty of the two.

But the elf had enough. He had suddenly seen the face of his dying daughter in the crying tauren and he pulled away. "Enough," he remarked quietly, "The others are getting far away. We should leave now brother." With that the elf was off, his swift legs bringing him far ahead of the dwarf.

Yawna sobbed to herself. '_The dead don't cry,' _she told herself, but it was no use. She was dead maybe, but she could not stay that way for long. Something was pulling at her, something dangerous and evil beyond the horizon.

''_Bonds of friendship must be made_

_In order to disprove what lies have been laid._

_Where forces of hatred do conspire,_

_Only rain can quench the fire.'_

Her mind was speaking softly and Yawna rose stiffly, her back facing what had been her village. "Rain, huh?" she muttered in a dry voice as she spied the femur from the demon wolf, "I only can hope that I have the strength."

* * *

((A/N)): SUPER ANGST! That was terrible! How could I write such thing? Poor Yawna was in so much pain. Man, must be the snow. I live in new England and just got _buried_ under three feet! School's canceled though. Or maybe I'm angst because I just watched the full season of Trigun. SO SAD! Made me cry, that episode 'Living Through' or something like that. Anyhow, hope you liked it. Will be back soon! 


	3. Hatred Divine

Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft, but obviously someone does…. It's just not me…. Damn.

((A/N)): Okay, so once again here I am. Writing late at night because I don't have much else to do. Yay for me. I'd like to thank everyone who left reviews for the second chapter, the super angst one. Once again, I apologize for the fact that the chapter was depressing. You can blame Trigun for that, because the original thought for the chapter was much nicer before the last ten episodes of that Anime. Bolo's death was a product of an amazing Anime… lucky bull.

* * *

Chapter Three: Hate Divine

Yawna felt the cold. It was not a physical freeze, for long ago her body had numbed to the shock of the cold plains. But it was a mental chill, one accompanied by hours of pain that was not only her own but also belonged to the plains which seemed to cry themselves. Dew drops were tears that night and the grasses wept as blood soaked their roots.

At first Yawna took steps that stumbled and shook. She could feel the distress of the five tauren that had lived. It ran through her like the tip of a pike, but something else nagged at her. It was a warm sensation, one on the side of her leg and the other close to her stomach.

Yawna knew the first was from her father's axe handle. Ever since she had fallen it had been radiating heat that had given her comfort. It was her father's spirit, a guide to her in this dark time. But the second puzzled her until she found the source.

It had been lying in her pocket since the day before her Rite. Her mother had given it to her as a symbol of luck and to help her connect with her father's spirit and maybe receive his aide. The horn band that was sunset-hued had belonged to Makar, but now it belonged to Yawna.

Her fingers shook from cold and blood loss as she reached into her pocket. Fixing the horn band over the stub of her now severed left horn she felt something in her Awareness stir. It was unlike anything she had touched before, but she was sure it meant well. The warmth spread over Yawna's body and she slept.

* * *

It was two days before Yawna awoke. To her it seemed as if it had always been night, but she knew somehow that the sun had come and gone. The villagers had not even touched her body, for they were still not sane enough to move. Only Baine, his brain running just as quick as it always had, was beginning to formulate a plan to return the former glory to what was now Bloodhoof Village.

"It's cold." Yawna announced to the trees, "Is it always cold or has my spirit just froze?" The trees nodded slowly and Yawna's Awareness sensed something very delicate moving amongst the grasses. She had felt this particular feeling before and even before the creature was in her sight she smiled for the first time in three days.

"You are back, dear wolf." she whispered softly as the creature came to her side once more. It was the wolf from before, the old gray wolf from the night of the battle. She could still remember his weariness, but now her Awareness and brain were so shot that she could only register the fact that the wolf had returned.

The elderly creature rested beside her, his body a source of warmth and trust that Yawna suddenly realized she needed. Her body leaned against his and her Awareness stretched out to comfort and reach the wolf. She suffered the pain of leaving his pack, savored the victory of every kill he had made on his own, and felt in her own hooves the steps that he had taken through his years.

"Do not worry now, Weary Traveler, I will take care of you now." Yawna hissed to the wolf, the night air, and the dead lying in the Village. She wanted to lay there forever, to feel the world grow and die around her as she slept soundly. But she could also feel the pull of the prophecy that had hung over her head as a small calf. Things were becoming clearer to her, and it was only a matter of time until the enemy fully presented itself. She knew that Two-Moons was dead, more than anything she had felt the death of Bolo, her mother, and the kindly oracle that had taught her more than her family might ever have been able to.

* * *

"Come now, Weary Traveler, surely you aren't tired now?" Yawna called softly. It was daylight again, but it had become clear that she could not sit like this forever. Yawna would head east, east where she could escape the pain that lay in the Village. She took nothing from her homeland, only the femur bone of the demon wolf that had burnt down her home.

"We have to get away from the Village so that I may breath again," Yawna chided Weary Traveler, the wolf who had comforted her last night. He was stumbling after her, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth after only an hour of walking.

The Rolling Plains stretched before Yawna. She felt the vitality in them, the new start that was available to her. But something else was itching the back of her mind, something deadly and cunning that swept up her heart and squeezed it for a second before releasing her.

"I will begin anew." she said softly, half to herself and half to Weary Traveler who limped behind her. The tallest hill beckoned her with warm sun and soft grass. From this peak the Tauren mistress could see most of her home stretched before her.

The Windfury Harpies that flew in their nests nearby gave her heart a slight tinge, her Awareness sensing their desire for squirming meat. But unlike other Tauren Yawna could not feel the burning desire to kill these ancient nemesis of her kind. She only felt the desire to rest and repair her fathers axe.

The femur bone she had taken from the wolf lay across her lap. It was heavy and thick, strong against whatever she had thrown it to, whether rock or tree. Miraculously the bone did scrape off to a wetting stone and even with no experience in weapon making the young Huntress soon had a good sharp edge on the blade of the bone. It was forming slowly into a battle axe head, Yawna's Awareness leaked slowly into the stone and bone and she began to feel the exact curve of how she must move the sharpening whetting tool to maximize the axe's ability. Polishing its deadliness.

When the bone had been fastened into an axe head, sharp as a lion's tooth and twice as deadly, Yawna began to fasten it to her Father's axe handle with a piece of leather cord. The result was a strong axe, the head at least the size of a Plainstrider's head and the handle as strong as it had ever been.

Yet even though Yawna had constructed it herself she could still only bare to touch it, a deep ache that she knew was the product of the violence in which the Demon Wolf had laid away its bone. She could also feel the pain that would yet come from this axe and she prayed to the Earthmother that it could be altered, this future consisting of blood on her weapon.

"What do you think, Weary Traveler? Where do we turn now?" she turned to the wolf, who had been so recently sniffing nonchalantly at a tuft of grass. But now the lupine creature was growling softly, his muzzle pointed north to a hill Yawna could not see over. His hackles were raised, the hair along his back sticking up like that of a Quillboar's.

Yawna laid aside her new weapon for but a moment. Even though her hands had left the hilt of the axe she could still feel a deep murderous feeling that troubled her heart and made her chest tinge slightly.

"I wonder-" she began, but a sudden burst of pain blossomed from her shoulder and her soft musings turned into a bellow of pain. There was no blood, and the feeling faded away quickly, but now she could hear the guttural yells of something approaching and a cry of pain that was like her own but so different.

"Let's see what's going on." Yawna offered after she recovered. There was still something vicious and just plain wrong hanging in the air. Yawna could feel the ground flinch away from something over the hills, and her hooves sensed blood far before she actually crested the knoll.

There were marauders. Alliance marauders to be exact. To call them evil would have been wrong, because that would have made the Horde evil as well. Both sides had done their fair share of violent acts against each other, but the truth was that they were very much alike. Yawna herself had been on the wrong end of one of these attacks and even now her hands flew to the wounded stump of her horn, the sunset horn band brushing its feathers against her skin.

Mostly they were dwarves and humans, but Yawna spotted a few gnomes and one lanky night elf. Their party was ten men strong in all, and their murderous intent was directed at something in the middle of their circle that was screeching with fury and scything about hands that did not match any of its surroundings.

It was a troll. His long ears were poking through a plum mane of hair, ears so like those of the night elves and yet so very different. His skin had taken on a greenish tinge, his clothes battered linen and leather. There was no doubt that he was a warrior, for his weapon that was lying not long off, a dangerous broadsword, spoke of the battered legacy of warriors. But now the troll was a step for the legacy of the group now about to overpower him.

Unlike the merciful yet cruel night elf who had stopped his dwarf companion from killing Yawna these Alliance members were not in the mood for mercy. They were probably part of a group or guild, their own threatening intent feeding off those around them and they were prepared to kill a defenseless creature in cold blood. Their eyes were glaring and Yawna took an involuntary step backwards.

Weary Traveler was still growling, his fangs dripping saliva and his lips curled upwards to bear the glinting canines. He was staring in their direction, his ears pressed back onto his head and trying to block out the sounds of the Alliance. They were yelling loudly though and so intent on their murdering that they did not notice Yawna standing on the hummock.

The troll growled loudly, his lips twisting softly. But these Alliance members had not even bothered to learn the Hordes languages (though Yawna had been taught them by Two-Moons) and they only laughed as the troll screeched out his death threats.

"Rope him," one of the humans offered already removing a few coils of rope from his bag. The troll caught on quickly, trying to back away from the human and in turn running into a wall of pikes, swords, and staves behind him.

The first loop caught his arm, wrenching it from his control and pulling him into a sword that nicked his shoulder and caused him anguish. The shoulder had already been gashed, and the sword point reentered and made Yawna's shoulder burn as well.

Now other loops of rope caught his arm and neck and slowly he was dragged to the ground. Yawna wanted so badly to move but her legs would not allow it, her arms unwilling to move. A spell seemed to have her, though no one had caste one.

"This begins to bore me," a gnome said loudly, his voice laced with alcohol as he stared down at the bleeding form in front of him. They had no mercy, these Alliance members with liquor on their breaths and another fire on Lakeshire fresh on their minds. They had no families left, no neighbors nor friends.

"Let's just kill him," the gnome continued as he pointed his bow down at the still form. The troll had lost too much blood, was too weak to fight now. His life was closing, Yawna could feel it draining away. It hurt.

Even though he couldn't understand their language the troll understood the face of death. "No," it was a heart wrenching cry for Yawna, "don't kill me, please. What have I done to you?" It was a final plea, the troll at a warrior's end now praying for his life. He paused a moment as the gnome tightened the bow string, and then the troll hissed so softly Yawna might have missed it if the surrounding plains were not silent.

"But who would miss me?"

Yawna snapped. With a roar so ferocious she would not have thought it hers she began to descend down the knoll at top speed. Weary Traveler was even quicker than she, his agility and prowess allowing him to reach the marauders first, his teeth finding purchase in a soft human leg.

"A tauren!" the gnome allowed his bow string to let loose, the arrow slipping past Yawna's ear. She felt no wounds, only an insane rage and the desire to kill. Her body began to shake as she hit the first wave of Alliance. They were nothing under her insane rage, their faces aghast as the new axe sliced through their shoulders and legs. But not once did she kill. A bit of Yawna was still there, a small part of the Tauren still seeking peace and the desire to strop bloodshed.

The troll had found a sword. It was dropped from someone who had already fled with a bleeding arm, dropped by someone who's life was only spared because the tauren was still slightly aware. But the troll was not as merciless as his counterpart. While the young huntress still felt the pain of every man and woman she attacked she could still fury on, the pain only feeding her frenzy.

The troll paused over the body of a human. He was breathing hard, blood oozing from every wound inflicted upon him by the group. His mind seethed with fury. How dare they? How dare they gang up upon him and make a mockery of him.

"You would not have had mercy upon me," the troll growled as he raised the sword, "And I have no mercy upon you." The sun was dying, casting a last bloody light over the battle. The Alliance had all fled from what they would soon describe as a 'demon driven tauren.' The troll had raised the sword, the light catching off his yellow eyes that burned with anger.

"No," it was loud and stained with blood, but the voice was still commanding. Something barreled into the troll from the side, something knocked him to the ground and weighed down upon him in the least painful way. When the clouds and stars cleared from his eyes the troll warrior recognized his attacker, the insane Tauren who's eyes, now clear and desperate, had just been stained with rage.

"Get off of me," roared the troll, his claws digging into the Tauren's arm. His nails went through, small drops of blood beading on the Tauren's fur that was already stained with the viscous red liquid, half of which was not her own. But the Tauren did not repent, and instead was staring at the human who had risen to her knees. He heard an angry growl from beside his ear and immediately paused.

'_The Tauren is a hunter,'_ he thought to himself, '_If I continue this her pet will go right for my throat.'_ His brain was beginning to fog, and he felt the symptoms of blood loss begin to overtake him. But he had to figure out how the tauren would react and he willed himself to stay awake for a little while longer.

"Run," Yawna commanded in her strong voice. She was crying, the troll could see the tears rolling down the black and white fur on her face. "Run before I can't hold him anymore. Leave!" She coughed slightly, blood spilling from her mouth. The troll could see a stab wound in her chest, spotted her wounds more mortal than his own.

As the human took off after her friends a smile twitched on the lips of the tauren. She chuckled almost darkly to herself, shaking her head and muttering something about rain before falling sideways, her unconscious form slipping off the troll.

He stood slowly, aware of the accusing eyes of her wolf behind him. There was something about her face that made him pause, something about how she was sitting in the midst of the battle, unconscious from wounds, and still smiling.

Weary Traveler growled softly, his teeth fastening on the troll's pant leg. He tugged impatiently, yellow eyes glimmering accusingly. The troll found he could not hold his glance for long and he shuttered away, sniffing softly with a bit of impertinence.

"Fine," the troll said, and then a little more steadily, "Fine. I'll help her. But you better not expect me to stick around. I'm not like that." He sorted to himself as he removed a few medical supplies from the tauren's pack.

"Look at me now, Mey'Ru, I'm doing something for the _Horde_ now."

* * *

Yawna's eyes fluttered once, twice, three times before she finally awoke. Her Awareness brought her pain everywhere that was not her own and she rolled over onto her back, wounds tingeing with pain. She could feel the fire somewhere giving her warmth, hear it crackling loudly. Fire…. Fire…. Wait!

"The Village is on fire!" she screamed, her body flinging upwards. She could see the smoke, feel the warmth and hear the crackling, but it was not dangerous. Her Awareness tuned into protectiveness and a bit of surprise instead of anguish and sorrow.

"You're fine." a gruff voice assured her, its speaker moving slowly into the light of the fire. It was the troll from before, his hands offering out a steaming bowl of soup. He had bandaged himself up as well, his face such a contrast from when she had last seen him. He was smiling rather annoyingly now, tusks that poked through his lips curling upward and looking as if he was moving a lot by the way they bobbed. His wild purple mane was pushed back as best he could get it and now he had added a few plainstrider feathers to it, no doubt where he had gotten the stew meat from.

"Your wolf helped me," he told her as if sensing her question, for in his condition even a young plainstrider would have been a challenge for him. "He took care of them, all I did was follow them and take the meat."

"You helped me." Yawna said softly, staring into the bowl as if transfixed. The troll winced slightly as he saw two tear drops plummet into the soup. The crying made him uncomfortable and if it were not for the wolf he would have slipped away then and now.

"But you feel so sad," she said softly, and he blinked and tried to alter his expression thinking that she was sensing it from there. The troll could never had guessed yet that Yawna's Awareness was really probing him, sensing from him hostility and a great grief that seemed to envelope him.

"Are you aware that you are surrounded by an aura of misery. Or are you just ignoring it by now. Two-Moons made me sense everyone in the village. Baine was always surrounded by an aura of responsibility, but a sense of fear was new to him. My mother had an aura of responsibility as well, but she had a lot of grief too. She's dead now you know. You are very used to your sense of grief. It has been with you a while, has it not?" Yawna was rambling on now, her mind shot through with the events that had taken place. Her life had changes so much.

"Right," the troll said after a long pause filled with the sounds of the plains. He pushed the bowl towards her again, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to say something, but he wasn't uttering a word. "Drink the soup, I think you'll feel better."

Yawna sighed faintly, her breath catching as she slipped down the soup. Her brain was reeling, but as she got the food into her system her mind began to un-fog. She turned to the troll, this time smiling slowly and shrugging.

"Forgive me," she said, holding out her hand and placing the rest of the soup at the feet of Weary Traveler, "I was not myself earlier. I am Yawna, and I don't believe I caught your name through the mass of it all."

"Var'Jun," the troll replied, smiling as he held out his hand. This was a genuine smile, rare from Var'Jun. He chuckled as the wolf whined softly, pawing at the ground and nudging his nose into Yawna.

"Don't forget your friend here, hunter. He will be your crutch from now on." Var'Jun chuckled softly, "I had a hunter friend. Couldn't even pry himself away from a swoop that he had tamed. Took me a while to get used to the hovering creature though." The troll smiled with memory, but his face suddenly fell short and he stared at the ground hard.

"He died," Yawna asked quietly, "Didn't he?" The troll just nodded, shrugging it off as if it meant nothing. But Yawna's Awareness stretched out and sensed the pain and turmoil within. Suddenly she wanted to know what had made this writhing mass of hurt, but she dared not ask.

"Well, this is Weary Traveler. And I am Yawna." Yawna broke the silence, her thoughts buried elsewhere. She was probing farther and farther into his memory, sensing the trolls thoughts as he felt the slight tug at his mind. He looked quickly at his companion as if suspecting that she was the source, but could find nothing but fire flickering in her eyes.

"He died in a fire," Var'Jun interrupted her suddenly and the connection snapped, Yawna's mind recoiling from the trolls. He was resolute though, as if his mind was set on telling her. He had waited days to get this off his chest. Yawna fell silent and allowed him to speak.

"One of those fires that keep cropping up. It was a small camp, a nomadic camp. But anywhere it was Yawna, it was my home. They burnt it to the ground, those Alliance bastards, during an attack under the pretense that the Horde was burning their towns." Var'Jun paused, his tusks stopped their bobbing and his eyes seemed to click into the past.

"They all died you know. All of them. My friend, my family, and even Mey'Ru. A while ago I would have been happy if he died, he was always yelling at me. But now I don't want him to be gone, don't want any of them to be gone." Var'Jun closed his eyes and Yawna winced as a blast of mental pain howled through her.

"I helped one of them once," Var'Jun hissed softly. His eyes were open now, and his lips were drawn back in a snarl. "One of their little ones. I was young too, just a new warrior. And it was real little, maybe only five or six. A human. He had stayed too far from his home and got lost on the border. I helped him, I guided him back." Var'Jun spit into the fire, eyes unsettling and claws shaking as if seeking the human.

"But you didn't kill it." Yawna said confidently. "Nothing should ever die unnaturally. That was not the way the earth meant it to be. That was why I didn't let you kill the Alliance member. You would be just like them. A monster. They don't know their own cruelty because they see only blind hatred."

"Divine hatred," Var'Jun spit softly, "I relish in it. It is our differences that allow us to hate. Hatred is what keeps us apart, and it is just to be so." The troll giggled to himself almost madly, nodding his way to the north. "They hate us too. They are just as cruel and different."

Yawna looked towards the north, the Alliance. ((A/N: No idea which direction. I like north though. Forgive me.)) She then looked at her companion, her eyebrows knitted together with worry. Shaking her head doggedly she reached out, catching a firefly as it sputtered towards the flames. She turned and let it go into the cool plain night, allowing the fly to once more fly freely without the worry.

"No," she repeated staunchly, "_Blind_ hatred. Our differences are nonexistent." She held up her hand in front of the brooding troll. "We are not different. Our hearts beat, our blood flows, are minds work, and thus we all stay alive. Weary Traveler's heart beats too. The child that you saved on the border, his heart beats. And soon your children's heart will beat, and your family's."

Var'Jun grimaced, looking at the huntress. He blinked as he saw something else in her eyes. It was not the reflection of the fire again, but something different. He peered closer, past the blackness of the bovine speaker's eyes and gasped, recoiling a few inches and looking down at the ground.

The reflections of rain had been in her eyes.

"Where are you headed?" Yawna asked carefully. She had taken his surprise as anger, her Awareness desperate to shut down from the pain the troll always seemed to be feeling. She could not have guessed what he could have possibly seen.

"To investigate the burnings." The troll replied quickly, obviously already considering this. "I want to see what killed my family, ravaged my home. I want to see if the Horde really is burning the Alliance towns too. And if they are I want to stop them. They are going to bring pain to both sides. And… And… And…." The troll fumbled for words, his hands pulling up blades of grass by his sides.

"And no one deserves that pain." Yawna said softly, her eyes closed now. She was breathing in the air, another sense that Two-Moons had taught her. She sniffed again and recalled the seer's words.

"You can smell the future on the wind." he had said into the smoky fire, chuckling as Yawna's young nose only caught the strong burning pine smell. Yawna missed him desperately. Him and her mother and Bolo and all the Village.

The air smelt of fire, rain, and a coming storm.

"Would you like to come with me?" Var'Jun asked at last. "You smell like smoke and blood, so I can only infer your village met the same fate. We could stop them better as two than as one. My mother said that trust was key in battling this sort of thing." The troll snorted softly, his words sounding bitter after his mother's own burning death.

"I would like that very much." Yawna smiled, choosing not to reveal what the wind had told her. There was a painful future on the air.

Weary Traveler yipped softly, his voice added to theirs. Something was forming.

* * *

A:NThere you have it. Now I have to go. Art lessons. runs! REVIEW PLEASE! 


	4. A Long Journey

Disclaimer: I own some rats, I have cats, I live with dogs, and I have a cage of lizards, but I don't see a Warcraft anywhere. Strange, it must have picked the lock on its cage. Damn you Blizzard, you created it too smart and it is not mine!

A/N: I got some really positive feed back about the last chapter. You seem to like Var'Jun a lot, and I must admit he is a really fun character to write about. He has some interesting reactions to situations, which will be found in this chapter. And, of course, his past will unravel through the story! Yippee! Also, please excuse Mistakes I make when navigating through Warcraft, I haven't quite explored it right yet.

* * *

Chapter Four: A Long Journey

Var'Jun sniffed softly, his lips curling in disgust. The smell of blood was carried on the air, though unlike Yawna he could not sense further and interpret its meaning. But the troll did know the smell of day old blood on the winds, and he shook his head and guessed already what would be over the next hill.

"I smell it too." Yawna hissed softly, her hands already shaking. But it wasn't the smell that got to her, but her Awareness. It was coursing out of control, desperately picking up every pain around and slipping it into Yawna. She could feel what was over the hill, but also a few unfortunate squirrels that had been happened upon by a wolf and a the cry of a Plainstrider who's leg had been broken in a harsh fall.

"C'mon then, it's in our path anyhow." Var'Jun replied jaggedly. As he began to stride up the knoll Yawna noticed he was still limping slightly, for it had only been a night since his run in with the Alliance marauders. He was full of pride and purpose though, and there had been no stopping the warrior as he had set off. Var'Jun was stubborn, but it was rather refreshing after being alone and afraid for Yawna.

They were heading north, or at least they thought they were. But the two were still young, and only Weary Traveler knew they were headed northwest towards the coast. But even if he could have the wolf would have said nothing. For the settlements of Night elves were ahead and the wolf wanted little to do with that.

The pair crested the hill, their eyes widening with shock. In front of them was a battle field, stretched dirty and broken across the plains. What had once been waving layers of plain grass was not slicked down weeds, covered in day old blood and bodies. The smell was nauseating and Yawna's Awareness picked up the pain of stragglers, their breaths still clinging to their lips and their pain immeasurable. Every race was laying across that field, though the most numerous were the Tauren and Night elves. The eyes of the dead stared to the sky and even Var'Jun, who expected something far worse, couldn't help but throw an arm up to his mouth and choke back a gag.

"A dispute," he remarked in an almost uncaring voice. But it did not suffice, for even the troll knew it was no mere battle for borders. It had been a full fledged, organized, planned out encounter which had been played to its fullest. A battle this large hadn't been seen since the days of peace had started, and now it seemed that war was once again close at hand.

With a gasp Yawna dropped to her knees. She bowed down on the ground, her hands clasped above her head. Var'Jun blinked, his long ears picking up the sound of her voice praying softly in her native language. Weary Traveler sniffed her back, but she did not stir and for a moment the troll and wolf looked at each other. Finally they looked back to their companion, the huntress still bowing down before the battle.

"Err," Var'Jun began hesitantly, looking around him as if expecting someone to pop out of the grasses. "I don't see anything coming. You're really not expecting them all to just get up and walk about now, are you?" The troll had not been raised religiously. But Yawna had been brought up thinking that everything she did depended on the whim of her goddess, the Earthmother. It would have been hard for her to stop, _now_ at least.

Weary Traveler began to bark, the fur along his back rising and his lips curling back. Both Tauren and Troll looked up quickly and their eyes centered on the side of the battle where a small figure was now headed towards them.

"Wow, they did get up," Var'Jun remarked, shading his eyes with a spindly-fingered hand and squinting in the direction of the figure. "And guess what, they brought an axe with them."

As Yawna rose from the ground a fresh wave of anger and hatred spread over her. It sickened her stomach and for a moment she was stricken, her body shaking like a leaf in autumn. There was something else there too, a terrible determination and a deep despair that brought a whimper to Yawna's throat.

"It's a human," Var'Jun remarked, his eyes more suited to sunlight and distance, "A female too. She looks rather hurt I'd say, dragging one leg like a dead tree." He shook his head as he slowly pulled his broadsword from a sheath slung across his back, his hands weighted down by the immense weapon.

"It'll be an easy kill, but I may feel bad." the troll remarked nonchalantly, but he still sighed. But the scene of horror as his home burnt down and the fresh wound of the marauders was playing before his mind. He was not as forgiving as Yawna, who had all her life felt the pain of others, and he could not exonerate so simply.

"No, it won't." Yawna thrust the flat of her blade into the trolls face and blocked the view of his quarry. For the first time Var'Jun realized there were runes carved into the blade and they glowed softly. He wondered vaguely where she had learned this, for he knew her to be a leatherworker and skinner.

"I will not allow you to kill her. You shouldn't kill." Yawna said evenly, lowering her blade and revealing the figure drawing ever closer. "She has just as much as a right to live as you do." Yawna looked towards the oncoming figure, shaking her head slowly and looking at the troll sincerely.

The details of the woman were starting to come into sight. She was wearing a long dress that hugged her hips and flowered out. It was the color of a weathered spring, green like dryed sage. It was also layered with leather, especially on the top where it crated swirling patterns across the green. Underneath she wore a cream shirt with blossoming bell sleeves and a cut collar. The human had leering eyes, though they would have been pretty and emerald had they not been filled with hatred. Her honey hued hair was pulled back into a messy but at the back of her head, her eyes shadowed by unkempt pieces of hair that had broken free from the bun. She was also hefting a large cleaver, one of which she wasn't trained in and had no power to use efficiently yet had plucked from the body of a dead tauren this huge axe. She let it rest on the ground when she was only ten feet away from the pair, her voice ragged on the battle air.

"Have you come to burn more towns?" she demanded in what would have been a sweet voice had it not been cracked and broken. She hefted the cleaver onto her shoulders which much effort, holding it like a bat.

"Not really," Var'Jun offered. "I usually don't burn towns, too messy. But I do make little fires to keep warm with. Do you want one of those?" He was holding his sword at leisure, but Yawna could see the muscles in his arms tensing and could feel his effort at holding himself back. The woman, likewise, was also testing their limits and the Awareness scented hesitation.

"We're just passing through." Yawna's voice was commanding, demanding respects and as always sounding cool and rational. She took a step forwards, her hands coming up with the bone axe in them.

The woman tensed, the meat cleaver at ready, but her eyes widened as Yawna let her weapon fall. She stared at the Tauren in disbelief, her eyes registering the fact that the hostile looking troll behind the huntress had even dropped his sword, though grudgingly done with looks at the tauren as if she were mad.

"We are unarmed," Yawna said, holding up her empty hands and smiling as she took a step towards the woman. Weary Traveler growled low in his throat, but loyal to his mistress he didn't move towards the woman.

"So was my town!" the woman screamed. She rushed forward, her patience and thoughts snapped like a broken bone. The cleaver was too heavy though, a challenge even for an adult male tauren. But for the young woman it was more than a challenge and it made her totter slowly forwards, missing the tauren huntress as she stepped aside and running straight past the troll.

Var'Jun stepped behind her, grabbing her arms as they grasped the cleaver and shaking them until the great axe dropped from her possession. He pulled her hands behind her back, hissing softly in her ear, "Stupid move, human."

"Let go of me," the woman screamed, flailing around in the trolls grasp and lashing out as Yawna drew near. Her eyes were desperate and tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. Var'Jun seemed as a loss, the troll was uncomfortable around people crying. He blinked and looked to Yawna for help.

"Come now," the troll said when he realized the Tauren could offer nothing. She was staring straight ahead, though he couldn't realize her Awareness was picking up the desperation of the girl and rendering Yawna in her memories.

"Let _go of me!_" The woman kicked out, her leg catching Var'Jun in the leg and tripping him. She leaned up too, her head smacking the troll in the jaw. When Var'Jun lost balance they both crumbled to the ground. It was at that moment, when the two were sprawled across the ground, did Yawna wake from her fitful state and stare down at them.

"What the hell are you doing, Var'Jun?" Yawna demanded, her eyebrows knitting together in shock. She looked at the two first with concern, then with disgust. "What have I gotten myself into," she hissed under breath.

Var'Jun sat up quickly, his hands coming up beside his head as if threatened. He looked nervous and rather ruffled, though the woman looked far more angry. She shot him a gaze of venom before balling up her fist and sending it right into the side of his face.

"Bastard," she spit icily, "Keep your hands off of me otherwise I'll send a knife into your chest." The young woman stayed sitting on the ground, her back facing the bewildered troll and crossing her arms across her chest.

"Hey, you were to one who tripped me. And I wouldn't dream of it, believe mehuman." Var'Jun sniffed, turning his back on the women likewise. He closed one eye, the other yellow orb keeping a warywatch on the human.

Yawna groaned softly. "You two are acting like calves." she snorted, looking down on the two as they remained in silence. "And I am not going to baby-sit you two. If we are going to travel together-"

"Who said anything about us traveling together?" demanded Var'Jun, standing quickly though the human stood beside him. Both their eyes were blazing, and though they would not have admitted it they were both thinking the exact same thing.

"Your village burnt down too, did it not?" Yawna asked softly, the memories of the woman still passing before her. She shook her head sadly, smiling still though. "Everyone you know died. Var'Jun and I are out to stop the burnings, and I'm sure you can be civil enough to help us. That's why you joined this battle, right, to stop these from happening."

The human looked at her feet, her eyes refusing to meet those of the tauren. A tauren was her hated enemy, deserved to be slaughtered. But she couldn't seem to hate this one. Every time she looked up at the eyes of the tauren she could feel no hatred, like fire being quenched by rain.

"I am Yawna." the tauren offered out her hand with a smile, "And this is Weary Traveler. don't shake unless you plan to stay with us. Otherwise walk away, but do remember, in order to stop these fires we have to work together. They won't believe the group only consisting of Horde members, but with a human…"

"I do this for the sake of my family." the woman took the taurens hand, "Otherwise I would never travel with a tauren and a lecherous troll." The woman shot Var'Jun another look of venom. "My name is Katherine, but just Kat for short." The human hesitated, her eyes rolling back to look at Var'Jun.

"C'mon, in order of this alliance to work you have to get along. Otherwise people will keep dying and there will never be times of peace." Yawna growled, pushing Var'Jun forwards slightly. The troll sniffed softly before holding out his hand stiffly.

"Var'Jun," he spit awkwardly, never meeting the woman's eyes and otherwise looking at his feet. He said nothing as Kat took his hand and shook it quickly, neither letting the shake last for long. Then they both stepped away, neither talking.

"This is going to be a long journey." Yawna muttered under her breath and to her surprise Weary Traveler nodded, his eyes glinting as they watched the troll and human stare each other down.

A long, long journey.

* * *

"Well maybe if you weren't so slow to get up I would have thought you didn't enjoy it, you sick troll." Kat repeated for what seemed to be the three hundredth time. The two were arguing again, for they seemed to be always arguing. It hadn't been three hours and they were still discussing the fall they had both taken.

"Hey, I wouldn't enjoy something like that with a _human._ I mean, you are a girl after all, right? I can never tell with humans." This earned the troll a smack across the face though it was only a few minutes after his last one.

"Please you two," Yawna begged them. She was walking head of the pair, Weary Traveler at her side. Even the wolf seemed annoyed by the childish antics of the two and he now refused to look back at them.

"She hit me," Var'Jun whined, staring at human with distaste, "You would yell if I hit her, Yawna. Why don't we just club her and be better off without her. It would be easy."

"Well that's why the Horde worries about trolls," Kat spit out before Yawna had a chance to speak. "You see how easily they are able to break alliances. I wouldn't be surprised if he stabbed us all when we sleep. Not that I'll be sleeping mind you, with the libidinous troll looming over me."

"I told you, I wouldn't dream of it," the troll spat out and a fresh batch of arguments branched forth. Yawna sighed softly, her Awareness tingling with the feeling of annoyance and distaste that the troll and human were exhibiting towards each other.

"Take a break guys, I can't take anymore." Yawna tried to yell above the arguing, but it was to no avail. The pair continued to complain and but heads all through the walk.

* * *

It was night now, and there was no time to bicker. The night was dangerous, for each knew there would be deep trouble if they were found. If they were discovered by the Horde then Kat would be killed straight away and Var'Jun and Yawna on trial for treason and most definitely death. If they Alliance found them it would be the other way around. Either way was death and neither wanted that.

"I'll take the first watch," Var'Jun offered as he set aside a rough wooden bowl. Each had eaten from their own provisions, for they would go bad before the journey was over. The night air was cool, but a fire had been lit and the plain was illuminated by a white moonlight.

"Good, because I'm tired. Listening to you two gave me a head ache." Yawna said very shortly, curling up under her bedroll and facing her back to them. In truth, not only had it given her a head ache, but her Awareness had gathered their bad feelings and given her a heart ache. She was beginning to tire of having the human and troll together, and once again longed for her simpler life. But that life had burnt down with the fires and there was nothing she could do. Plus she knew she would need the human and troll, maybe even more.

The Tauren fell asleep quickly and thus didn't hear or sense the creature moving through the grasses. She would have sensed its deadly intent, the anger collapsed within, but she dismissed it as a nightmare in her sleeping state.

"I'm hitting it too." Kat said, seemingly to no one. She refused to look at the troll, her eyes blazing with fire light. She shuffled under her bed roll farthest from the troll. Though she said nothing Var'Jun could feel her discomfort and he shifted under it.

It was only a moment later before the creature chose to strike. It sprang from the shadows of the plain grasses, a dagger poised above the head of the human. Kat had not yet fallen asleep and her eyes were shock open, staring up at the dagger above her head.

It was held by an undead. The humanoids rotting face was twisted into a leering smile It opened a mouth in which one half of the jaw was partially missing. His eyes blazed and the dagger dangled above the human's head.

"That battle was meant to kill you," the undead spit out, Var'Jun balanced in between launching and sitting, waiting for it all to take place, but the undead paid him no heed. "The battle was meant to kill everyone. No one should have lived. How did you manage to?"

Var'Jun stopped himself from moving again. Humans were hated, they wanted to torture him. And this female seemed to take a special dislike to him. But even in the silence that hung in the air Var'Jun could see the terror on Kat's face. She had surely made him angry, but enough to die?

Yawna was awake now. The undead hadn't looked up yet, in fact he seemed to be drinking in the moment. But Yawna was too far away, not to mention too slow on her feet, to ever reach the human in time. The tauren turned to look at him, her eyes pleading and her usually cool and calm face now panicking. She was so desperate that Var'Jun felt himself begin to panic as well. The silence was just far too much to bear, and suddenly Var'Jun heard his own voice ring out.

"Stop." the Undead looked up in surprise as Var'Jun took a slow step forwards, his hands already drawing out the sword. "She lived through the battle, so she has a right. And why was the little scuffle supposed to kill everyone? What's going on?" It was obvious Var'Jun was worried, his voice shook slightly.

"Such a nosy troll, shut your mouth." The undead commanded. He made a move as if to shift his dagger, but instead pulled a throwing knife from the folds of his shirt. The knife found its mark, though luckily for Var'Jun missed by a few inches. The knife buried itself to the hilt a little below his shoulder and both Yawna and Var'Jun sang out in agony.

Kat screamed and the undead turned back. He had enough of this game, it was time to leave. His masters orders were to make sure no one from that battle lived, and he had only this girl left. With a smile raised the dagger, Kat still lying very still in case of a sudden lurch from the assassin.

That was when Var'Jun sprang. He collided with the undead, knocking him backwards into the grass. The troll was baring his teeth, his two tusks pressed very close to the undead's face. His yellow eyes were glowing with rage and he ripped the dagger from his shoulder, chuckling to himself as he held it up.

"Don't," Yawna was standing almost behind him. Var'Jun could even hear her trembling, her voice strained and her breath short. Kat was standing next to her too, not saying a word but staring down at her would be assassin.

"Oh come now, still working for the Alliance?" the undead smiled brilliantly, "Now I recognize you Var'Jun. You always used to like humans, got you in a bit of trouble back home though."

For a moment time seemed to freeze. Var'Jun paused, his face portraying disbelief and pain. The dagger was poised above the undead's throat though he seemed unperturbed about it. Indeed, his face was twisted into a macabre grin that made his hollow eyes sink further into the back of his head.

"Don't you dare." Var'Jun spit finally. He pounded the dagger dawn, ignoring the warm liquid that spilled over his hands and the gurgle that issued from the undead's mouth as his own throwing knife ended him. But still he was smiling, for he had completed another of his masters wishes. The troll was breaking down.

Yawna gave a piercing cry, crumpling to the ground beside Kat. The tauren couldn't handle the pain that her Awareness brought her at such a close ranged death. A wolf was one thing, but undead were complex beings with conscience thoughts and feelings.

"You didn't have to." Kat said very softly. She hesitated, then placed her hand on the trolls shoulder as he stood, his back facing her. "We could have just defeated him, just sent him packing. And…" Kat paused, her sigh echoing across the plains. "And I know you really didn't do it to save me. You would have liked to see me die."

Var'Jun let a breath of air escape through his nose, his lips twitching thoughtfully. He ran a finger across one of his tusks, trying to wipe away a spurt of blood and only succeeding to smear it. Finally he turned, looking down at the shorter human and shaking his head slowly.

"No, I really didn't. Strangely enough I think I cared what happened if you died, though I'm not sure why yet. But do me a favor, forget this conversation happened. I don't want to know you, and you really don't want to know me." Var'Jun cast a yellow eye on Weary Traveler. The wolf was giving him a cynical knowing look that sent shivers down the troll's spine.

"Oh, I will." Kat was herself again. She crossed her arms, pointing her nose in the air and rolling her eyes. "I wouldn't want to even know that some lecherous troll decided that he would rather not see me die. Really, it's enough to know I'm traveling with you. But if you are going to 'trip' again don't do it around me."

"You are the one who tripped me," Var'Jun spat out, a new wound opening in their argument, "Maybe that's what you wanted. I don't know, some strange thing that humans get when their own race wont- Ow! don't hit me, I'll stab you too."

Yawna huffed softly. She had just come to only to hear the pair fighting once again. "They'll never stop. Never, ever stop." she mumbled to herself, putting her hands over her ears to block out the bickering.

"This is going to be a long journey."

* * *

A/N: Wow, this chapter was surprisingly easy to write. Anyhow, that is the third party member added to Yawna's group. There's one more to go, but many more twists. And you'll never guess who that undead's master was. Oh super, I foreshadowed. Anyhow, leave a review if you read, because otherwise I think no one did. Signing off, it's me. 


	5. Dancing Through the Deceit

Disclaimer: Really, if I owned Warcraft all those marauding bastards wouldn't be invading Bloodhoof. I'll blow them up yet! Wait, no, Blizzard won't allow that. Anyhow, I still don't own Warcraft. I think that much is obvious.

A/N: Wow, somehow I am not procrastinating, this is big for me. Especially around this time of year, Valentines Day always depresses me. Funny huh, well I guess that's what you get for reading the fan fiction of a depraved pessimist. Anyhow, I'd like to continue to respond to your reviews.

I'd like to thank Youkai no Miko. You've been a lot of help. As for the subject of Bolo, yes, I really did like him. He was a chipper and aspiring tauren who would have made a great husband for Yawna. But the truth is he served his purpose well. I allowed him to be mused over and allowed Yawna and readers to draw close to him, but then I served him out. He was mainly an anchor. Yawna needed to lose something other than her home, Hardhoof, who's name even changed. She needed to let go of something other than her mother, family, and her mentor, Two-Moons. She needed to lose her future, and thus Bolo died. Sorry guys, Yawna never was meant to have such a happy ending.

Thank you Crimson Reaper as well, comments like that make me feel fuzzy all over. Anyhow, that was a great guess, you've hit the nail on the head. And as for Empty Dreams, I'm yet to read it but as soon as I have free time I know where I'll be.

Also, I apologize for Var'Jun's latest rage in the last chapter. Believe me, this troll has quite a few problems. Those will unravel and come up later. I also hoped you guys liked Kat, she's a fiery witch isn't she? Well, there is a softer side to her, as many will soon find. Also, in case you were wondering (and I think I did mention is at the beginning) I do actually play Warcraft. I'm a level sixteen tauren going by the name of Cleavehoof, and my kitty cat pet Fortitude. Give me a heads up if you've seen me. Anyhow, there is actually a chapter at the end of this long intro, so read on!

* * *

Chapter Five: Dancing Through the Deceit

It did not take long for Kat and Var'Jun to begin to warm up to each other. Despite their previous bantering the two were not only now tolerating each other, but also agreeing. This did pose a problem with Yawna though, because though the Tauren proposed a democracy on what they should investigate first her vote was always outnumbered by the troll and human, both having very similar ideas.

"We need to get new supplies." Kat put in as her hands flew up in the air, "Not only do I not have a weapon apart from that dirty dagger I snatched from the undead, but my clothes are tattered and burnt and I can't possibly wear these for long around that lecherous troll." Well, maybe they hadn't exactly stopped totally fighting.

Var'Jun ignored this latest stab at his intentions. He was slowly learning to tolerate these, and even though he often stabbed back the two often were in good humor. However, with a slight smile and a quick hand the troll caught the tip of the human's sleeve, yanking softly and dodging the slap she sent his way.

"Cut it out you two," Yawna sighed softly, for she already knew that her commands were no use. "And I can't see any signs of civilization anyhow. But what do you really expect Kat? You are a _human_ remember? If we find a Horde town, which we are bound to, they're going to take you prisoner, or worse!" Yawna shook her head resolutely. Her mind was still fresh with the memory of the pain she had felt with the close range kill of the undead. She couldn't imagine the death of a human, her friend, so close to her.

"We'll find a way, but we still need supplies." Var'Jun replied, his lanky legs sprawled out in front of him as he rummaged through his pack on the grass. The limber troll sighed softly, producing a leather flagon of water and a handful of loaves of tough bread.

"This is all I have left, and a few gold pieces I got from my old village. It'll be enough to fix my sword and get some new supplies and clothes, but even that won't last long. And I severely doubt you have enough Yawna, though you axe needs nothing."

"That's good, because we may need to do some fighting." Kat said, her hand coming up to point to the horizon. She was straining her eyes, the young race of humans did not have as sharp eyes as trolls, and Var'Jun spotted what is was far before her.

"A caravan," He said, once more his spidery hand coming up to shade his eyes against the sun, "Gold, green, and purple tens from what I can see. Anyone know what flag that is?" He had already pulled out his broadsword, the impossibly wide blade flashing in the sun.

"No, but I know gold is a human color and the orcs often use green. Night elves tend to favor purple. It would be rather strange to see them together." Yawna blinked the sun spots from her eyes, her axe resistant in her hand. No matter how much she stretched out her Awareness she could not sense any ill will from the caravan. In fact, her Awareness only sensed good feeling and welcome.

'_They'll have to trust me.'_ she thought to herself.

"Put away your weapons." she dictated, Weary traveler looking up at her with a puzzled expression. The troll and human followed suit, Var'Jun coming to the tauren and studying her eyes closely.

"Are you quite sane, Yawna? I know you have things against killing er, everything really. But, that would be suicide." Var'Jun shook his eyes, looking at Kat for support. "Help me here, she's really serious."

"Just trust me." Yawna said softly, "Pretty much both of you own me your lives. I saved you from humans, Var'Jun. And Kat, I saved you from Var'Jun. The least you can do is believe me."

The two sighed, their eyes conveying disbelief, but they did owe the tauren. Weapons slid back into their sheaths and the small company faced the oncoming caravan. On closer inspection the whole caravan was moving their way, large carts piled high with tents and goods were pulled by straining Kodos, muscles bulging along the great creatures legs. There were figures seated atop the carts, and when they drew close enough Var'Jun gasped, his sharp eyes picking up something he thought impossible.

"Night elves and tauren, sitting together. They're all in peace. I see some humans and trolls too, even a scarce gnome or dwarf or too. And yes, an undead and a few orcs." Var'Jun shook his head, "And guess what, they've got beer."

Kat rolled her eyes, smacking him soundly on the back of the head. When the troll raised his head again she fixed him with a burning glare. "Tell us details. What are the wares, are any prisoners? Are there guards? You can worry about the beer later!"

Var'Jun sniffed disdainfully. "Crazy woman," he muttered under his breath, "Not worried about the beer, eh? I'll get her drunk yet, that'll show her." He sought guards and prisoners, but reported he could find none.

"Didn't trust me, eh?" Yawna chuckled to herself as she watched Weary Traveler immediately settle, scratching a flea on his neck. She chuckled as Kat looked robbed of a sincere thrill.

The troop grew closer, and the small company was greeted warmly. Yawna and her friends were treated with the utmost respect, though one human did take a special interest in Kat. She tolerated this with the patience of a saint, though Var'Jun was a bit more annoyed by it than she was.

Yawna found company with an elderly tauren who guided her friends and her into the caravan. The nomadic inhabitants of the cavalcade were setting it up, smiling and waving with friendly glances at the newcomers. Every race was there, though it was no surprise that it was mostly taurens and night elves. There were, in fact, walking along the border of the night elves lands near Mulgore. But Yawna could not only sense no hard feelings, but the thought was contagious and she felt herself immediately warm up to all the races here.

"There is no fighting… Why?" Yawna requested Bront, the elderly tauren who was taking them to the caravan leader. He chuckled softly, a sonorous sound like water falling into a deep bellied pot.

"I can only guess you've heard, maybe even experienced the fires that have been burning towns no matter what side they are on. Well, all of the people around you have suffered these fires and lost everything dear to them. Sometimes this caravan picked up stragglers and was mostly tauren a short while ago. But soon we began to pick up wounded loners and then traveled to burnt villages and pick up the living. We have learned to let go of the differences that bind us and just welcome." Bront smiled back at Var'Jun and Kat.

The two were walking not far behind, their faces pulled taut as they had once again refused to talk. Yawna could only imagine the quarrel this time, but she could infer that it might have to do with the puzzled looking human who had offered the priestess his arm.

"And it looks like you have already let go of the differences as well." Bront said softly, watching the young tauren's face for changes. "I'm sure the leaders will have no problem accepting you. If it were my choice your group would already be sitting, drinking and eating with the caravan, but it is not. We still have to screen races for anger towards another. Some people have trouble letting go of the differences."

"There are no differences." Yawna said softly. She was tired of hearing this, form Kat, from Var'Jun, and now from Bront. Her ears pressed back on to her head, and she was about to finish her thoughts when Bront opened up a tent flap and motioned for her to step in.

It was warm, lit dully by a few smoldering fires and a few blown glass bubbles that were spinning with fireflies. The effect was ghostly, the faces of strong protectors and four figures sitting at the end of the gigantic tent were silhouetted.

"Who have you brought us, Bront?" One of the figures requested, her tone friendly but still demanding. She had long pointed ears, and was immediately recognized as a night elf before she even drew into the light. Behind her followed two more tauren and a dwarf who looked like he would rather be drinking and feasting than be there.

"Travelers… and a wolf," Bront said, introducing the group in turn. The night elf was patient, but when Yawna stretched out her Awareness something in the elves eyes awoke and she glared directly at the Tauren.

"Have you found them trustworthy?" The dwarf asked in a good natured voice that sounded as if gravel was rolling about on his tongue. He was smiling now, as if awaken from his bad mood. The night elf was silent though, her eyes till probing into Yawna's.

"They seem amicable enough." Bront chuckled as he saw Kat straighten up, though he hardly could have guessed that it was because Var'Jun had been quarrelling under his breath with her and she had finally broke and slapped his wrist, only gaining a smack back. Yawna warned then angrily, glaring at them from the corner of her eye.

"Then they are allowed to stay as long as they please." a tauren said, nodding his head at the small group and turning his back on them as he headed back to his post. This ended the conversation and Bront quickly guided them out.

"Mingle, walk about, try and make friends. If you wish you are part of the caravan now." With that Bront turned and left. Yawna blinked, her mind still trying to comprehend what had happened. She was sure, somehow, that the night elf had sensed her presence in her mind.

"I'm going to get some decent clothes… and a weapon. I'd do with a nice stave." Kat flexed her fingers, looking at the dagger at her side, "But I doubt this hunk of scrap metal will fetch more than three copper."

"I'll come with you," Var'Jun gave the priestess his sauciest grin, "I'll help you pick out some new robes." This only earned the troll a sound thump between his ears and Kat went stalking off with her hands clenched.

"Why do you provoke her?" Yawna asked when the troll shook his head a rubbed his bump, inspecting his fingers closely for blood. He shook his head when he found none, grinning broadly and looking after the still raging figure of the human.

"I don't know. Her reaction often… interests me." Var'Jun shook his head, waving over his shoulder as he blasted after the priestess, "Don't sweat it Yawna. Go and have some fun, you need it." As they troll disappeared behind a tent (followed by a barely audible yell that came from Kat) Yawna nodded to herself.

"I do need a break," she said, half to Weary Traveler and half to herself, smiling as she rounded the bend. The caravan was fully set up, shops and traveling merchants with their wares spread out. Children ran through the streets and under her feet, their screams of joy coupled with the frantic yell of parents with the fires still in their minds.

But Yawna did notice other things than the serene peace offered to her in a rather mocking way. Alliance merchants often pulled their wares closer to protect them when a Horde member passed by and vise versa. The races stuck mostly to themselves, and though there was no fighting there was not the utmost peace. Yet the caravan was surprisingly refreshing, and most of the people seemed friendly and happy.

* * *

That night was a peaceful one. For once in a long time the small traveling group could rest, their good spirits bolstered by infectious joy of the people in the troupe. That night they met at the Hobnob, an awfully large ten set up in the middle of the site. Inside were people of all kinds, close together but not so crowded that breathing would become difficult. Their bodies warmed the tent, no fire needed. The light was the same blown glass spheres, their hollow insides housing fireflies that shimmered and danced. A few bards had gathered to one side, their flutes and fiddles singing out well known tunes. A dance floor had been opened at the center of the tent where a few couples were now swinging wildly.

Yawna was seated at a table over to the side of the dance floor. She had a plain view of the festivities to her right, but then again maybe it would have been better if her view of this was blocked. For to her right were the drinking festivities.

Var'Jun stood beside a table, his grin wide and split. His clothes were patched, new leather showing dark through the faded stuff. He had tamed his wild mane of plum tinted hair and it was now pulled back in a thick braid on the nape of his neck. A few strands of hair hung over his eyes and he was staring out at a crowd of drunken men and women now. He had been participating in these drinking contests, much to Kat's dislike. She was watching him with distaste as his Adam's apple bobbed to and fro and he downed a large tankard of ale.

Everyone around cheered and clapped and even Yawna couldn't help but clap. Var'Jun smiled sheepishly, but then brushed the smile off his face and returned to his usual impertinent grin. He chuckled to himself, sliding a few coins onto the bartender's table and handing Kat a small glass of wine.

She smiled weakly, shaking her head as new bets were placed on the troll. He was smirking as money piled high and a new bet of beer was placed before him. The eager warrior scooped up the tankard, his mouth opened wide in a genuine grin of what was now making him very drunk. Kat rolled her eyes as the beer disappeared down his open throat.

Yawna chuckled to herself as the priestess sat down beside her. She was wearing new robes that she had purchased at a vendor. They were snug, with the same bell sleeves. But they were enforced with leather and thick linen. Blues of every shade and white made for noticeable clothes, but Yawna doubted that they would need stealth. In fact, she was beginning to like the idea of the caravan and it enticed her to stay.

"Look at him, will you?" Kat sipped at her wine, her eyes rolling as copper piled high in front of the troll. He was grinning madly now, looking Kat's direction every once in a while and holding up a fistful of copper.

"Did you two make a bet?" Yawna asked as Kat grimaced and turned away from him. She looked at the tauren with an expression of bitterness. She nodded at her wine, wincing as another cheer from behind her announced that Var'Jun had won more money.

"Yes," Kat said miserably, "He betted that he could make more money than this dress was worth in one night. I betted he couldn't because he didn't have anything to get money with, but I think he knew exactly what he was doing."

"What were the stakes?" Yawna asked, her interest piqued. She reached her Awareness out, ignoring the buzzing happiness that was coming from the people around and felt Kat's emotion run through. She felt some regret, a large amount of annoyance, and something strange she hadn't felt in a while. It was the same feeling that she felt when she used to think about Bolo, but this emotion was Kat's. Yawna pulled away from it, something in her mind clicked and she smiled widely.

"He's going to dance with me." Kat said, looking back at the troll. He grinned her way, holding forth a handful of what was copper and making a two with his fingers.

"One more silver to go." He roared above the crowd, smiling as he pulled forth what looked like a tankard the size of a bathtub. Men cheered and a few female trolls standing nearby swooned and hung on the tall troll's shoulders.

Kat turned away and Yawna felt a lash of jealousy swim into her mind. But it passes quickly and Kat mused softly to herself. "Maybe it won't be all that bad." But the priestess shook her head, making an annoyed face back at the troll as he collected his winning and began to count them out.

It was not long before Var'Jun was beside their table, his breath smelling off coffee and his mind brought back from the intoxication. He laughed loudly, laying down three silver, newly converted, onto the table top. He also let a few copper coins fall beside that, smiling as he saw Kat's face blanch.

"I told you I could do it. Now you have to hold up your end of the bet." Var'Jun smiled warmly as the priestess looked to Yawna for help. The tauren could so nothing but shrug though, and in the ancient words of her own mentor Two-Moons she chided the human.

"A bet is a bet." The tauren sniggered to herself as the priestess nodded as if headed into battle and arose from her seat. Var'Jun, though not usually optimistic, was shrugging and ignoring a few stragglers who were still offering him beer bets.

"You're right." Kat took Var'Jun's outstretched hand and she suddenly found herself smiling. "I still can't believe you got me into this mess. You should have let him kill me Yawna." With that Kat raised herself from her seat, a grin plastered on her face despite the fact that she had complained earlier.

Yawna watched the two twirl around the dance floor. Her heart ached for Bolo, and not for the first time did she wish for a life without the terrible fire and death. But a sad smile still crept across her muzzle. Even though she knew she could not reverse the effects of the fire she still wished they were all alive.

Even drunk Var'Jun was still fast on his feet and Kat was a fast match for him. The two spun around others, their frenzied desire to outdo each other making them swing faster and faster. Yawna suddenly stopped smiling. There was something wrong, something so infinitely wrong that it washed over her in a wave and made her immediately sick to her stomach.

It was only then, when Yawna looked up, did she realize that Var'Jun and Kat were the only two on the dance floor that were dancing through the deceit. Among the couples dancing Yawna could only see Horde on Horde, Alliance on Alliance. Nowhere was that breached, only Var'Jun and Kat were the exception.

The sickening wave of _wrongness_ washed over her again and she staggered from her seat, her face painfully drawn. When she looked up again it was too late to warn the troll and human, for the power had shifted and Yawna had lost her awareness ((A/N: No pun intended!)) of the future.

"I've had enough." It was a crazy voice, like the man was chewing on his tongue as he spoke. His voice was oily too, and as he stepped from the crowd he was immediately recognized as one of the top bettors from Var'Jun's drinking contest. He was holding a large blunderbuss in his hands, pointing the barrel straight at Var'Jun and Kat and smiling like a demon. His eyes glinted and a few more of the caravan stepped forth.

People were stepping away from the two. Yawna was left in the outer circle, unable to move as hatred from her Awareness surged through her body. She was left staring at the troll and human, the hall falling silent.

A large orc snorted, his sword quivering in anticipation in his hands. He pointed it at Var'Jun who's face had become very calm and centered. He slowly unlaced his arms from Kat, his stance dropping.

"It was only a harmless bet." Var'Jun had his hands in the air now, his fingers almost tickling the tips of his ears. Yawna winced as a small searing pain formed in her back and she realized with a jolt that the orc had pushed his sword tip into the warriors back a little too hard. It was a small wound, but to Yawna it screamed with the agony of anger.

"Harmless bet," A dwarf spit, "Harmless bet. It if were different times I already would have shot you down. I've put up with being friendly to you Horde bastards, but having a pair bonding between the Alliance and Horde? Never!"

Ignoring Var'Jun's receding protests of a 'harmless bet' the Horde and Alliance members alike began to step forwards. A few swords tickled Var'Jun and Kat a distance apart. Yawna could feel both their distress longer than the hatred now around her, and she took a step from the crowd and held up her hands to prove she was unarmed.

"This is pointless," she was cool and calm again, her voice radiating authority and even though she was young it seemed to ring with wisdom. "Just minutes ago you were having a great time together. No hard feelings, right?" Yawna flinched visibly when a nearby dwarf reached up and thrust a blunderbuss against her head. Her cow-like ear twitched inside of the wide barrel of the gun but otherwise the tactic was ignored. Her Awareness did pick up the violence of the gun, as it always did, and her ear began to sting with pins and needles.

"Enough of this." A different voice, one Yawna would soon be used to. From the growing crowd another figure stepped into the bare circle. She was wielding an intricate bow, a light weight arrow already notched and ready. A night elf.

The elf sighed as if bored, her arrow pointing to the orc whose sword was still pestering Var'Jun. She had delicate hands, purple hued like the rest of her skin. Blazing white eyes registered the orc frozen for a second, then finally lowering his word as he realized something difficult for him to comprehend. The Night Elf was shorter than he and by far slimmer. Her wardrobe was compiled of deep shades of silver and purple, rich and vibrant. It was laden down with strong steel and hints of gold, a quiver of light leather on he back and a small dagger at her side. The night elf chuckled and tossed her head, making her deep blue hair flick over on shoulder and onto her back. Her ears tickled the rafters holding up the tent and they caught the sound of Var'Jun mumbling something about not needing help.

"Believe me troll, if it weren't for your company then I would have let you die. And as for you, that dwarf back there, lower your gun. I'm sure you would rather go drinking then spreading the blood of your future savior." The night elf smiled to herself as her ears picked up the sound of the gun leaving Yawna's head. She had a strong and commanding voice that was friendly in any other circumstance, but demanding.

'_Oh, that was who she reminded me of.' _Yawna thought to herself, '_The night elf in the big tent. The leader. They seem so similar, these two. And that strange feeling when they talk. Like they know too much. Must be what the orc was so puzzled by.'_

"Be civilized and go back to your celebrations. They won't last long." The night elf seemed to warn them, her lips dancing with a smile. "You can only hope that this isn't the first to go." She was practically beaming when the crowd broke and the troll and human were left alone on the dance floor. Only the orc stayed, watching the elf with puzzlement.

"Why, Gwyneth?" the orc asked her, "Why would you, of all people? You, who is the leader's daughter, why would you save these people? In the past you would have laughed as their blood spilled. Has the caravan softened you?"

"I'll ask you not to bring up my past," the elf replied levelly, "And what's more, I suggest that you not bring up your own either. It will only cause trouble for you, believe me." With that she turned on her heels, ignoring Var'Jun and Kat who were still standing very close to each other and watching the elf as if she had sprouted a second head.

"I am Gwyneth," The elf offered her hand to Yawna who had not moved, "I know about the Awareness, as Two-Moons called it, and I know about your sightings, you journey, and your company. But don't worry, I promise I won't alert anyone else. I believe it would only make them kill you."

Yawna blinked in surprise and shock. She opened her mouth, but could find nothing to say to the perceptive Gwyneth. Var'Jun and Kat were standing behind her now, keeping a respectable (or maybe more) distance from each other and watching Yawna as if she had sprouted more heads than it appeared that Gwyneth had.

"I suggest we leave soon. There is going to be a-"

"Fire!" The elf was cut off quickly as a small gnome came rushing into the tent. He was carrying a heavy pail of sloshing water, his voice panicky. He tripped, the water spilling all over the ground and sinking into the bare earth. He Didn't seem to care though. "FIRE!"

Var'Jun cried out, pointing to the side of the huge tent. A small flame had shimmered through what the others had thought to just be reflections. As soon as it came through the entire side of the weakened tent began to burn down. Kat began to chant, a small blue light appearing in her hands as she watched what appeared to be the entire tent come crashing down.

But that was not what Yawna had seen. She had seen the entire side of the tent _torn_ down in a flurry of claws and red eyes. A nightmare glared at her and the Tauren's limbs froze, her breath escaping her lungs and whispering out her teeth. She did not regain it, only stared as the Demon Wolf thrust its burning skull of a head through the burnt away tent and _smiled_.

"_This is going to be fun."_ A voice in her head said softly and the wolf thrust itself forth towards all the helpless creatures. A blast of flames erupted among them and the voice returned. "_Come play with me Raincaller."

* * *

_

Oooo000oooo! Cliffy. Sorry all, I couldn't resist, it was just too perfect. Now maybe you will send threatening letters my way, that would be fun and scary! Yay! But I'd like to say I'm on vacation in a few days (Yay for February Break) and also that I will get the latest installment as soon as possible. Now, leave a review because unless I get some I'm not gonna write the new chapter. And you don't want that!


	6. Malchior

Disclaimer: This is getting annoying, but yes, I really don't own Warcraft. It still belongs to Blizzard, though when my new invention is completed it may soon be mine! Evil Laughter But no, it belongs to Blizz. I'm too lazy to manage it anyhow.

A/N: Here we are again, a beautiful day in New England (not really, there's 6 inches of snow falling) and I'm here inside on this day writing fan fiction. Really, is there any surprise there? So anyhow, we left off in the fire in the caravan (a really mean cliffy ). But I am still going to leave you with such a mean cliffy for a while. Or at least half this chapter because we must now travel back in time a ways to the day that Yawna's village burnt down. You think straightforward, a village burns down and that is that. But there's something under there that you might have caught earlier. Like, what the hell was Thralk (that undead ) killing Two-Moons for?

Anyhow, I am basking in the fact that this story has such good reviews. You people make me feel fuzzy inside. . Crimson Reaper don't die I'm writing more! As for publishing it Thrawl, don't push me. I just might send it to Blizz to see what they say. Funny, your name is very close to Thralk. Strange. Also, I wanted to know what you guys thought of Var'Jun's hair in a braid. My picture of him is dashing, or at least in troll terms. And, for all those undead out there Thralk might be an undead but I have nothing against the race. They do make good enemies though. Sorry for my grammar mistakes I have problems in that department!

Read on!

* * *

Chapter Six: Malchior

The day was still fresh in Thralk's mind even though it had passed a while ago. He smiled to himself now, chuckling softly as he recalled Two-Moon's demise. The knowledge the tauren possessed had plagued him for a few days then, but it was over now. His old mentor was dead and what was his apprentice had been beaten to death by alliance marauders.

"Two-Moons," The summoner hissed to himself softly, "There was always something you could not see. My power was far stronger than yours could ever be. You could not admit that I was your better, and now you have paid."

The undead buried himself in memory suddenly. He recalled with little difficulty when he had first seen the tauren. His mother had brought him to the fabled seer in hopes that her son's strange powers would be quelled or stamped out altogether. When the tauren became his mentor Thralk recalled the burning annoyance that this old cow would be his teacher. He was more powerful than Two-Moons ever could be.

"Sir?" a voice interrupted his musings. A small undead wriggled his way into the dark tent that Thralk had called home for no more than two days. A temporary home yes, but his army required that he leave his usual luxury and spend days on the road.

"Yes?" Thralk spit impatiently. He stood slowly and let his robes drag out behind him. The undead in front of him whimpered softly as Thralk stood as a powerful figure. The young rogue had been told of the power of his master but never seen him in person. The undead was a startling sight.

"There's been word from the traveling troupes. They met up with the enemy and are battling as we speak." The undead stared at his feet. There was no rule in the army that said you couldn't shoot the messenger. His next words might make him a corpse to add to the body count.

"Go on," Thralk waited on baited breath. Hopefully his plans would go accordingly, otherwise something new would have to be devised.

"They are very evenly matched. Very," The undead choked on the words before spitting, "I'm not sure if any will make it out alive." He winced, flinching backwards and covering his head with his hands.

"You may leave," Thralk sat down heavily on his chair as the undead ran for dear life through the ten flaps. He waited until the soldier was out of earshot before beginning to laugh. It started as a low chuckle, then escalated slowly into a screaming laugh that ran insanely on until the undead summoner fell short of breath and had to gasp for air.

"Perfect," he hissed softly to himself, "Just perfect." He smiled as he thought of what Two-Moons would have said, that everything had a chance and the balance between life and death should not be tampered with.

"I have tampered with it. Poor me." The summoner chuckled darkly, then stood slowly. His hands folded along the flaps of the tent and he paused. The outside beckoned him, but the undead closed his eyes slowly and began to breath. It was a steady rhythm that began to beat the air. His mind began to wander and then to skip along the path of other beings. He clutched the minds of those it touched and began to wring their thoughts from him. Thralk's Awareness was strong.

His mind traveled to the battle field. It had raged for a while now, longer than he thought. The Plains of Mulgore were spread with blood. The fighters were beginning to fall on both sides and every mind that Thralk entered was filled with terror. But unlike the undead's adversary, Yawna, he felt only power and mirth as his soldiers died and suffered.

The undead stayed in his tent for hours on end. He had buried his mind deep within the battle, none daring to open the tent flap at the thought that their troops might be losing. They were the same troops that had fended off Alliance attackers in what was now Bloodhoof Village and their prowess was well known. But against the Alliance army or similar skill they were almost certainly doomed.

"It is a shame," Thralk mumbled, half to himself and half to Two-Moons as if he were chiding the dead tauren, "That I must waste lives like this, is it not. You would have told me not to, but they saw me murder you. Things like that can not be ignored and they can't keep their lips buttoned for long. Hopefully all will die."

The battle ended as the last Alliance soldier fell. He could feel no more life on the battle field, this summoner of extreme powers, and he was just about to recall his mind when he felt something stir. It scared the summoner and he opened his eyes wide as he realized what his own Awareness had picked up.

Another.

He pushed his mind through the battle field once more sensing something stir, a moving body that had survived the fighting. The undead cursed vehemently as he sensed the mind of the young tauren he had taken for dead. She was his opposite, a threat to what the undead had in mind. Thralk stood slowly, his mind receding from the battle. Though he knew to be alone the undead still pierced the dark corners of his tent with searching eyes.

"How did she survive?" he demanded and looked thoughtfully over at his staff. The gem on top began to glow with an eerie green light. Thralk smiled to himself, picking up the staff with a delicate hand and staring into the gem.

"Maybe it is time I gave Gwyneth a call."

* * *

As the fire burst through the tent flap and once again Yawna came face to face with the demon wolf all she could think of was one thing: '_Run._' Pure instinct wanted to take over, wanted to make her bolt into the open air and away from the heat. But her Awareness took over, picking up terror and pain through the tent and making her frozen to the spot.

The flames licked at dry tent timber. The supporting beams were rent through with the heat and came crashing to the ground. Yawna was standing directly underneath one, her eyes still focused on the wolf that no one else could see.

Gwyneth leaped, crashing her nimble form into the side of the heavy huntress. They were both propelled backwards as the beam smashed into the floor, the tauren mistress landing a bit of a ways away from the night elf. She sat up quickly as Weary Traveler appeared by her side, his teeth latching on to her sleeve and pulling urgently.

"Run you thickheads." Var'Jun growled as he blasted by them, dragging Kat by her arm behind him. The priestess had twisted an ankle diving out of the way of a falling flame. The troll was a little better though uncoordinated from his alcohol intake.

"We are," retorted the ruffled night elf as she picked herself off the floor, "Someone wasn't though." She shot Yawna an exasperated look before weaving her way quickly through the fires. The night elf was completely ignoring those around her, stepping over people who screamed for help as they were burnt alive. She didn't look down, only shook her head and kept walking.

"She's a lovely person, isn't she?" Kat remarked acidly before following the night elf. Her hands worked wonders, great balls of blue magic lifting beams to free trapped people. Var'Jun guided more out, his sharp tongue and quick demands causing people to act purely because he told them. Only Yawna remained routed to the spot, her eyes taking in what only she could see.

Unbeknownst to Var'Jun and Kat the Demon Wolf was moving among them. It's red eyes lingered on each dying person. Its mouth opened wide to inhale their souls, shining beacons of light that exited their mouth with their last breath. Yawna watched in horror as these bright lights disappeared down the open skull of the demon. It threaded its way through the exiting people until it was in front of Yawna, face to face with the huntress who had taken the bone from his leg and watched as he destroyed her home town.

"_What's the matter Raincaller. Do you not appreciate my PAIN?" _the last word burnt in Yawna's head and she yelled loudly as the pain of all the dying and wounded beings caught up with her. The huntress would have staggered back into a fire if it weren't for Weary Traveler, who had supported underneath her, she would have stepped right into the flames.

"_Do not fret Raincaller, I will be here whenever the HATE calls me."_ The voice receded from her head and allowed her Awareness to pick up the pain of the others with more violence. Yawna screamed, her entire being rocking as if she were on fire and not just very close to being so.

"C'mon," Var'Jun's voice broke through the pain. Yawna was temporarily blinded, seeing only a deep red that flooded her senses and made her mind numb. She felt the troll latch on to one of her arms and what could only have been Kat's hands on the other. They began to guide her through the flames.

"We can call this even." Var'Jun offered in her ear with a slight chuckle. The cool air on her face made Yawna's impaired vision and she blinked away the scarlet cloak and looked about her. The good people of the caravan were fleeing, everything they had once owned now going up in flames. They were fleeing to the hills, only a brave few staying to try and douse the fires.

"This is terrible." Gwyneth interrupted the trio, her voice as calm and cool as usual. She came up behind them, her eyes taking in the scene almost lazily. "I've lived in this caravan all my life. It's like watching it burn away."

"Then go help," Var'Jun roared, his only free hand waving about. His other hand, or rather arm, was supporting Kat whose ankle was not allowing her to stand by herself. The priestess nodded vigorously, her hands desperately trying to cast a healing spell but to no effect.

"No, I have a job. My mother can handle this problem. Right now we have to get away from this area. There is a large Horde army headed this way that doesn't appreciate this caravan. We will have to flee and fight another day." With that the druid turned on her heels and stalked away, turning her back on her burning home.

The troll and human looked to Yawna. They were puzzled, the fear in their faces catching in the firelight. Yawna gulped slowly before turning to look at the caravan in which the Demon Wolf was still roving. It smiled at her, a macabre grin that made the tauren sick to her stomach. Weary Traveler whined beside her.

"She's right." Yawna replied finally, her breath rattling through barred teeth, "We are in no condition to fight. We would really only make matters worse. I suggest we follow her, I think Gwyneth has more than meets the eye to her."

The band trekked after the haughty elf, each buried in their own thoughts. It was a protracted walk. The fire still lapped behind them and the night air was cool on front. Neither tauren, troll, nor human knew exactly where they were going, only that they followed the tall silhouette on the horizon.

When they were far out of the sightline of the fire Gwyneth stopped. She had rested the group in a small valley in the middle of a rise of knolls all around, the protection it offered was needed. The group was faded, Yawna buried in thoughts of pain and sorrow that were coming from the caravan still within Awareness range. Var'Jun was beginning to slowly fall asleep as the alcohol he had drank took over. Kat was worse though. Her ankle had given out and she was practically being carried by the waning troll.

Gwyneth was the only one who had enough sense to build a fire. Her deft hands worked swiftly to create the source of warmth and even though is reminded her with a sting of what was happening to her home town she shook it away. The company gathered around her fire and the elf felt purposeful.

"I'm hitting it for the night." Var'Jun said softly. Luckily the group had brought their packs with them to the gathering and now had them after the fire. Var'Jun pulled forth not only his own sleeping mat but Kat's as well.

The human smiled graciously as the troll set her up, helping her over to the sleeping roll by the fire. She thanked him softly before lowering herself into the blankets and falling almost immediately asleep with the smell of smoke still in her nose.

"Poor girl," Var'Jun remarked with a chuckle as he watched the priestess. He then turned his attention to his other two companions. "Wake me up when it's my turn to take a watch. I'll take Kat's as well, I think she needs the sleep. I don't think she's ever been in a bar fight before." He laughed again, intoxication lacing his voice.

As soon as she was sure that the troll had dozed off Yawna began to question the elf. Her mind burnt with things that plagued her and she began to wonder exactly where it would lead.

"Why do you know about the Awareness." It was a simple question to start off with but it would take quite an explanation to make the tauren feel comfortable. The night elf laughed softly before answering.

"I can understand your thoughts but you have no reason to fear. Two-Moons told me of it. My mother and I are both sages, able to catch small glimpses of the future once in a while." Gwyneth smiled as the tauren relaxed at the name of her old mentor. "My mother used to take me there when I was young to hone my skills. Two-Moons is dead now though, I felt him die."

Yawna nodded. She paused, then yawned greatly. "I really need some sleep, would you mind taking first watch Gwyneth?" She was already pulling up her bed roll, humming softly to herself as she worked her way into it.

"No problem," she replied and added an afterthought, "Call me Gwyn though. If we are going to travel together, which we will because I want to find more of the Awareness, then we have to be on friendly terms."

The straightforward answer comforted the huntress and before Weary Traveler had even settled at her side she had already fallen asleep.

* * *

"We have to go back! They could be in trouble!" Kat argued loudly. She was livid now, half standing by herself and half leaning on Var'Jun. "They are your family, you need to support them."

"They do not need our help!" Gwyn yelled back, her foot tapping impatiently, "They are perfectly capable under my mother's orders. She will help them recover. And if you are going to find out who is causing these fires then we have to get going now."

"Gain control of yourselves!" Yawna yelled to be heard against the arguing Alliance members, "We can work this out without having to strain our lungs." She stamped her hoof impatiently, making ground beside her tremor slightly and Weary Traveler sniff angrily.

"Please ladies," Var'Jun pleaded, his hand pressed to his temples and his eyes closed tight, "No more yelling. My poor head's gonna burst if you all keep up at this level." He groaned slightly as Kat shot him a good, hard box on his head.

"You wouldn't have such a bad hangover if you hadn't drank all that beer last night." the priestess huffed impatiently as Var'Jun opened one yellow eye to look at her, "You might as well have injected it into your arm. No wonder your head hurts so much."

Var'Jun chuckled, still in a humorous mood despite his hangover. "You aren't going to give me any comfort Kat-girl. You seemed so ready last night." His hands crept up her arms and tugged at her sleeves

"Don't touch me you lecherous troll." Kat spit, swatting away his hand and trying to gain balance on her own. She failed miserably though, and her arms flailed wildly in an effort to stay upright before Var'Jun caught her again and sighed softly.

"You need a reality check, girl." The troll said almost lazily. He had pressed his hands to his temples again and was massaging them with the look of someone who was in deep regret, "And I do too. Why did you let me drink all that beer, Kat?"

The conversation between the two continued in this fashion before Yawna grew impatient with the pair and interrupted.

"It doesn't really matter who was the one who started that bet." She growled impatiently, "What really matters is what we are going to do. I think Gwyn is right, her mother seemed like a very capable person and we have a lot of ground to cover before we reach the area near Thunder Bluff."

Kat sighed. Yawna and Gwyneth were both two very strong voices of reason. She nodded in resignation and the camp was cleaned, the group headed off in early morning. The pace was quick, northward according to Gwyn's directions.

"Are you picking up anything on your Awareness, Yawna?" Gwyn's voice was piqued with innocent interest and she blinked in surprise as Yawna gave a short gasp and looked quickly over at Var'Jun and Kat.

"Her what?" Var'Jun asked and was quickly echoed by a sound of curiosity . The two now looked over at Yawna with questions dancing behind their eyes.

"You haven't told them yet?" Gwyn cut in before Yawna had a chance to talk. She blinked in surprise again before shaking her head. "And all this time I just thought that you two were intolerable and rude, or at least the troll was. Maybe you aren't then?"

Var'Jun began to protest but Kat silenced him with a look of venom before looking back at Yawna. "What is she talking about Yawna?" The name seemed almost familiar to the priestess, like a tale you were told as a child and only really comes up afterwards in life.

"Um, actually the truth is I'm not really sure. See, when I was a calf I was taken to a seer, Two-Moons. He made a prophecy for me and I was taught exactly what was going on because I was… Different I guess." Here Yawna paused, the looked ahead of her and sighed softly, "See, I feel the emotions of things around me. When people are really happy I get this immense feeling of joy, but when people are in pain… Well I feel that too."

"That's why you don't kill anything." Var'Jun exclaimed, "I wondered about that. Sorry Yawna, I teased you earlier about that. No hard feeling right?"

"Don't worry," Yawna waved it away with her hands, "You couldn't have understood. But yeah, my mother always saw it as a bit of a disappointment. I'm a hunter, my job is to put meat on the table. But I can't every time I see something or am near something that dies I feel like a tiny part of my heart dies with it. My mother Kiel always saw it as a bit of a disappointment. I've never killed anything in my life though I couldn't tell you how many times I've died."

"Never?" Gwyn exclaimed this with disbelief, "Not even a plainstrider or a wolf? Not even a bug?" She almost let a gasp escape her lips as Yawna shook her head. The elf had always been taught to kill what stood in her way, beast or being. The thought of blood-free hands made her look on her own way of life.

"That's amazing Yawna. What was the Prophecy, if you don't mind me asking?" Kat looked sheepishly down at her feet, "I've always loved lore."

Yawna cleared her throat and recited with practiced precision:

'_Bonds of friendship must be made_

_In order to disprove what lies have been laid._

_Where forces of hatred do conspire,_

_Only rain can quench the fire.'_

"It came along with my full title, Yawna Raincaller. I usually don't use it but it rather scares me. It seems like a great weight on my shoulders and these outbreaks of fires make the quenching bit of it all the more real." Yawna sighed softly and her eyes held a tired look.

"Don't worry," Var'Jun chuckled, "We'll all help you. Where else would we go?" He smiled, but then his face fell. He stopped suddenly, shading his eyes with his hand as he often did when searching for something.

"Anyone else see that figure coming over the far hill?" He asked and Kat stopped beside him, her face alert. "Looks human by the way it's walking. Male too, broad shoulders. Limping though. Oh, no wait. He fell. We won't have to worry about him."

"What?" Kat cried out. She smacked the troll on the side of the head and making him feign fainting on the ground, "My ankle's hurt and what if I fell. Would you just 'not worry about me?'" She huffed, limping off to the figure in the distance.

"Not you Kat-girl. Not to you." He pulled himself up and scrambled after her calling, "I wouldn't mind it if you did take a break hitting me though." The troll's whining made the priestess speed up and he moaned softly as he trailed after her.

"Those two," Gwyn shook her head, "Irresponsible, the both of them. And bickering like they're a married couple." She chided them from a distance before following after them, her long legs taking her quickly to the receding figures.

Yawna sped up and followed them with Weary Traveler at her heels. The rolling grasses and dips in the ground made running hard, but she watched as the troll and human stopped up by the fallen figure. When Yawna drew closer she felt the pain from the man, but also a feeling of sincere relief and heartache as he caught sight of something.

The group drew up in the man, standing over the fallen warrior. He was dressed in silver armor that glinted like a new coin in the Mulgore sun. His hair was long and black, pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Sincere blue eyes peered out from his sun-beat face, a bit tired but full of recognition.

"Katherine!" He called out as the priestess pulled a bit closer to look down at the human. His face broke into a smile though Yawna felt the pain in his leg and spotted the trickle of blood spilling from the gaps in his leg armor.

"Malchior?" Kat declared, her face breaking into a smile and then her eyes filling with tears, "Oh Malchior you're alive?" She flung herself over the body of the fallen paladin. Her sobs of joy made the air stir and the paladin had a look of great contentment on his face now.

"My Katherine." Malchior said softly, completely ignorant of the people above him, "How I've missed you!" The knight drew his arms around the slim waist of the priestess and Kat stopped sobbing, her silence making the situation uncomfortable.

Yawna's awareness picked up something strange. She turned to see Var'Jun stirring beside her, the Awareness sensing jealousy and the troll's lips mouthing the words 'my Katherine?'

* * *

A/N: ACK BEDTIME! HOPED YOU LIKED THE NEW CHAPTER! GOT TO RUN! 


	7. Depart

Disclaimer: Still don't own Warcraft. Think about how bad it would be if I ran it. There would be all kinds of peace and stuff. A happy game, but a boring one… Bill has got the right idea.

A/N: Wow, a real big cliffhanger there. Sorry about that. And people NO SHOOTING YOURSELVES! I always update. Anyhow, more comments from the peanut gallery. Some of you have been talking about a novel from me. Well, the truth is there already is, though its not published yet. For two years now I've been working on a novel entitled Ravendown. It is medieval fiction, with my own original characters, story line, and world. If you people ask I'll put and excerpt from it on the next chapter.

Also, I do know that Bloodhoof Village was not named after the battle that I wrote took place. I decided to spice up the story and make what seems to be my own Warcraft fable or folklore. Good of you to notice though, anonymous reviewer! Active reading, yay!

As for the comment on Kat and Var'Jun, Secret, kudos. Sometimes it feels odd to write their reactions to each other, though like you I approve very much. Sometimes I have to pause and think about the differences between the two and how the humans differ from trolls. Not easy, I assure you. But anyhow, the two have such different personalities that I love writing arguments between them. Their personalities fit together so nicely that it's little wonder they have this type of bond. Funny how both are very denying!

Also, crimson Reaper, it's sort of nice to you actually reread chapters. Yah, In the End does go with that chapter. Perceptive! And it would be really cool to see your drawings. If you ever get a scanner or find one it's be cool to see anyone's work. Just send them to me through my e-mail on my lookup.

And Youkai no Miko, there you go, saving me again. It never occurred to me that the group had different languages, probably because I have never ran across it in the Warcraft game or books. I know it's there, but not from experience. I don't know exactly how I'm going to solve this yet. You'll have to wait and see. Oop, wait, I have something now so you'll have to wait until I reveal it. I don't know about which way Var'Jun's hair will stay, going to have to think about that as well.

And after that long winded review, here's an actual chapter!

* * *

Chapter Seven: Depart

The priestess pulled herself up, blushing a bit and laughing almost nervously. She stood slowly, offering a delicate hand to the fallen paladin. Kat seemed to liven at the resurface of the knight and as Malchior took her hand she beamed.

"I thought you had died in the fire," Kat mumbled softly and suddenly finding her feet very interesting, "No one was left in town. I never would have left if I knew you, or anyone for that matter, had survived."

Malchior shoved this comment aside, looking over her shoulder as if suddenly noticing Yawna and her companions. Her grabbed Gwyneth's arm without a word and pushed the elf and human behind him, spreading his arms wide as if defending them from the tauren and troll.

"Get behind me, lasses." He roared, barely able to balance with his leg wound, "I'll defend you to my last breath from these foul Horde demons." With a struggle the paladin hefted his heavy sword and brandished it with a shaking arm.

"Sure you will," Var'Jun chuckled dryly, pushing the sword aside and glancing over the knights shoulder. Malchior was considerably shorter than the lanky troll and Var'Jun did this with ease. "You two alright or should Yawna and I attack you to make the paladin feel better?"

"Don't be stupid!" Kat snarled and Yawna chuckled lightly as she felt a burst of annoyance wash over Kat's feelings that were placid just a moment before. The priestess stood on her tip toes to try and aim a slap the warrior's way but the troll dodged with his usual ease.

"I'll save you from these kidnappers, Katherine." Malchior piped up again, his courage returning, "Don't you worry either, fair elven lass, I'll defend you as well." Malchior braced himself as Yawna stepped forwards. But instead of the blow that the knight thought was sure to follow she offered him her hand, smiling with a friendly air.

"I'm Yawna." she said, her cool voice calming the paladin almost immediately, "Var'Jun and I have been traveling with Gwyn and Kat for some time now. We haven't kidnapped them, they're here on their own will."

"Have you threatened them?" Malchior demanded, causing Kat to bite her lip and hold back a laugh. Gwyn did laugh though, a soft giggle that sounded like ringing bells on winter air. Malchior looked puzzled, obviously not finding anything about that funny.

"Kat's threatened me quite descriptively a few times, but we haven't threatened them." Var'Jun shrugged, turning back to camp without another word. Once again Yawna felt the intense jealousy but the tauren only smiled to herself. Something brewed below the surface of that jealousy, the same feeling as when Yawna had looked at Bolo and when Kat and Var'Jun had danced.

"Not very friendly, is he? Just like his entire species. Why are you 'traveling' with him again, Katherine dear?" Malchior began to chatter away along these same roots. He made comments of all the bloodthirsty tauren he had slain, but Yawna blatantly ignored him. The calm tauren was unruffled by the knights gruesome descriptions of battles with trolls, orcs, tauren, and undead.

They began to trudge back to camp, Kat and Malchior limping behind by themselves while nimble Gwyn caught up with Yawna. She matched her pace, looking at the tauren's controlled countenance with a look of surprise.

"I'm surprised you can take that without jumping down his throat." Gwyn shook her head, looking up at the troll ahead, "But even if you're under control I can't see Var'Jun holding out for that long. I'm sensing… tension between him and Malchior already. And that's coming from the oracle point of view and not just my intuition."

"It's a good warning," Yawna replied evenly and her face did not change at all as she said softly, "And from my point of view it ends in bloodshed either way. It's a warning that won't be heeded though."

* * *

A little while later the group had gathered around a fire. Dusk settled in around the plains, the night sky lit with little pin pricks of stars and the moon a glowing eye in the expanse of blue. The plains were alive with the sounds of crickets and howling wolves that Weary Traveler raised his ears to. But otherwise the area was silent, the travelers lost in their own thoughts.

Malchior was the first to break this silence. They had al finished a dinner of vegetable soup, thin broth filling, but not to the paladin's standards. "That's funny," He remarked pointedly, "No meat in that stew, really. Not very filling, wouldn't you say Kat?"

The priestess yawned widely before shrugging. She gave Yawna a quick look, for their dinner had been edited for the tired tauren's benefit. Instead she blew it off, her eyes averting the paladins as she spoke.

"We just didn't have the energy today to hunt or even travel. Maybe tomorrow we'll bring down a plainstrider or something." She sighed softly, watching the fire twinkle, " But we'll still have to travel. Always moving…" The woman trailed off as if lost in her thoughts.

"But still," Malchior snorted, "It's not like they feel anything anyhow." Here Yawna winced, her Awareness inching away from the dogged stubbornness of Malchior's mind.

"Besides, nothing but good Alliance members really feel any mental pain anyhow." The paladin looked pointedly at Var'Jun, his eyes glinting with a fiery dislike. "Take trolls for instance. Those creatures have no feeling whatsoever but their desire to kill. And the recent fires, those barbarians."

"You know what-" Var'Jun growled loudly, standing quickly and drawing his impossible broad sword from its sheath on his back. The troll bared his teeth in anger, his breath bated as if he were trying to hold something in.

"Control your anger troll, you wouldn't want me to slip and push a sword through you, would you?" The knight sighed as if in resignation from his sitting point on the ground. He turned to Kat, remarking with a lacing of point to his words, "No control, Horde members."

"Okay, well." Gwyneth said quickly as Yawna pulled the troll back into his seat. "Maybe we should all get some rest. There's travel ahead again, and tomorrow is a long day. I say two sentries at a time, who's first shift?"

"Who died and made you queen, Gwyn?" Var'Jun demanded jokingly. He seemed to have calmed down though the anger was still glittering in his eyes. The troll still had his sword drawn though, running a small whetting stone over the edge to make the blade sharper.

"Thank you for volunteering Var'Jun," Gwyn replied evenly, her smile making the troll roll his eyes, "And don't call me Gwyn. Gwyneth please, though I don't mean this in disrespect. Anyhow, I'll take first shift with Happy here. I'll wake You and Kat for second, okay Yawna?"

The tauren huntress cut off another attempt at speech from the troll with a curt nod. She silenced the warrior with a warning look, her eyes twitching to Malchior and Kat for a moment before looking back pointedly at the night elf.

With a small amount of grumbling from the troll and a whisper of soft sighs the company settled down. Only Gwyn and Var'Jun were left awake, though Weary Traveler was wide-eyes as well. When the druid was sure Malchior and Kat had fallen into sleep she spoke to the troll.

"You're not warming up to Malchior very much." the night elf commented dryly. She wasn't smiling, just clutching onto her bow and staring straight ahead of her into the night plains. The wind howled and Weary Traveler followed the elf's gave without finding anything.

"You wouldn't either if you were a troll. Or any Horde member for that matter. Yawna is the one exception, I don't know how she stands it. That tauren puts us all to shame." Var'Jun spit off to the side, his teeth clenched.

"That's not exactly what I meant," The druid turned to look at him now, her eyes glowing eerily in the night air. She narrowed the spectral orbs, studying the troll intently as if seeing right through him. "Even in the short time I've known you I've realized how… close you were to Kat. And I know it bothers you that she and Malchior are rather, I don't know, warm with each other."

The troll jumped as if someone had pricked him. Weary Traveler made a wheezing noise that sounded somewhat like a laugh and the troll silenced the ash-hued wolf with a dirty look. When the warrior turned back to the elf she was still staring at him, her eyes haunting.

"Of course not. Kat and I are nothing but pains to each other. You know all we do is fight." The troll turned away, closing his eyes and sticking his nose into the air. After a long pause where silence ruled supreme he opened his eyes again, string down the blade of his sword and sighing softly.

"Besides, she is happy. That's really all one could ask for."

"Deal with your grief your own way, Var'Jun." Gwyn replied, yawning slightly before facing her back to the stubborn warrior and calling over her shoulder, "You are doing each other no good by staying in your silence."

* * *

The next day's light spilled over Yawna's muzzle. Even though she and Kat had spent a perpetually silent guard together half the night the tauren still felt well rested and alert. She smiled as her companions began to stir, each rising to their own sun. Only Weary Traveler was the one without worry though. The rest had at least one thing on their minds each.

"G'morning Katherine dear." Malchior's long drawl made the priestess awaken from her drowsiness. "I'm glad to see you alive this morning, guarding me last night with that horrid tauren and all. I was sure that you were okay though. I thought maybe today we could get some time to ourselves, maybe?" The paladin smiled as Kat blushed prettily and busied herself with ladling out cold soup into the crude wooden bowls.

Var'Jun stiffened, his muscles freezing over a sleeping roll he was stuffing into its bag. The troll snorted shortly, turning his back on the two and immediately finding other things to busy himself over. Gwyn shook her head.

Breakfast was silent, only breached by Yawna's gentle reminder that supplies were running low. The group had not had time to buy vitals from the caravan and more than ever their food supply was dwindling.

"I'll have to go hunting today as we walk." Var'Jun said softly, his tone apologizing as he watched Yawna, "But we have enough of the vegetable stuff left for one person for a while if the rest of us only eat what I could catch."

"I will hunt too." Malchior called brazenly, "For my strength has now returned and I will bring far more than a troll could get. Maybe you will come too Katherine, just in case I ever run into trouble out in the dangerous plains of Mulgore."

"Or if a plainstrider pops your inflated ego." Var'Jun hissed into his soup. The comment was only heard by Gwyn, however, and she gave him a pointed look before finishing her soup and going back to cleaning their soon-to-be-abandoned campsite.

It was not long after that Malchior and Kat headed north, away from the traveling company. They were to meet a few miles up ahead with all their gains and travel until sundown. The two were seen chatting amiably as they disappeared over Mulgore's rolling landscape.

"I'm off," Var'Jun grunted a small while later. He ground his teeth, smiling though at Yawna and Gwyn before heading Northwest over another hill. "You broads take care now." He called back, his sword already drawn with anticipation, "I'll try to go far away so you can't feel anything Yawna."

As the troll too disappeared Gwyn scoffed softly, "he headed in the almost exact direction Malchior and Kat went. I have a funny feeling there will be a rather brutal meeting, though that's only a feeling. Oracle's work is never solid."

Yawna nodded sadly, "I will miss him." The elf looked over at her companion in question, her eyes holding puzzlement.

"Why would you say that?" She demanded, her voice laced with suspicion, "He won't be gone long." The druid felt her spine shiver as Yawna's knowing eyes turned upon her.

"It's just a funny feeling."

* * *

"But Malchior, I trust them." I've been at my very worst many, many times around Var'Jun and Yawna and neither of them have ever hurt me. They are not going to just attack out of the blue, Malchior." Kat sighed softly as she followed the paladin over another hill. Instead of hunting the knight had taken to questioning her.

"Well I don't, not so much the tauren as the troll. He's murderous, Katherine dear, vile and evil. His only intentions are to harm you, I'm sure of it." The paladin jabbed his sword into the air as fighting off imaginary foes.

"He's saved my life once!" Kat reached her end, yelling this statement across the plains and staring down at Malchior from the top of a hill where she had stopped. "How can you judge them by what race they are? Yawna and Var'Jun and Gwyn have always been there for me, and that's more than you ever have!"

Malchior stopped attacking the air, his sword falling and resting it's point in the dirt. The knight began to laugh softly, a slow chuckle that crept higher until he was almost in hysterics. Kat grimaced as the knight leaned heavily on his sword and doubled over in his laughter.

"What's so funny?" She demanded, her lip curling as she watched the paladin try to regain himself. The human knight seemed to be fighting for his control, giggling every so often before finally being able to speak.

"You compared me to a Horde member, Katherine dear. How can you possibly say that. Gwyneth is one thing, but Yawna and Var'Jun don't have feelings or emotions. I'm surprised they even have names, dear. Don't compare me to them."

When Kat did not say anything he stepped a bit closer to her, his face coming very close to hers. He was almost baring his teeth, all humor sliding from his voice and hitting the plains with an abandoned air.

"Don't," He growled at the stricken priestess, "Compare me to those _monsters._ I will not stand for a belted knight to be put against a filthy troll _murderer_."

At that moment a harsh scream echoed across the plains. The hills seemed to shiver and the two humans stopped, looking around and trying to pinpoint the source of the cry. The paladin caught it first, his mouth almost open as if tasting anticipation on the air.

"A battle," He hisses softly to himself, "Finally." The knight had seen a troll, her lanky limbs stretching to gallop over the hills. She was being hotly pursued by a few Alliance members on fast mounts.

"No," Kat tugged at his arm, "Don't." She was suddenly reminded of Var'Jun, the good-natured, roguish troll springing into her head. The approaching troll had the same facial expressions he did, a look of pure horror the same as when the fire broke loose in the caravan. The terrible, frightened look where Var'Jun hadn't thought, just grabbed her arm from where she had tripped over a loose chair and dragged her to safety.

"Don't," Kat repeated, tugging at the knight's arm and shaking it as if trying to loosen his grasp on his sword. But Malchior was strong and sturdy and instead of letting the sword drop he only grasped it further and gave the priestess a silencing look.

The mounted riders spied Malchior, for he had started to wave his arms and call out. They turned around, their mounts fleeing back over the hills as the unsuspecting troll kept running straight towards the two humans.

When the female troll came close Malchior began to pound down the hill. His heavy armor gave him momentum and soon he was barreling along at a fair pace. Kat ran behind him, still trying desperately to stop him.

Kat was lighter. She caught up with Malchior, stepping in front of him. It was here that the troll finally looked up, finally noticed the two humans. She shrieked out, crying utter nonsense and lashing out at the fist human she came by. Kat was in front of Malchior.

The trolls small dirk sliced through Kat's arm, a long wound opening up and beginning to drop blood onto the plain grass. Kat screamed, staggering aside and allowing Malchior to push through her and get to the troll.

It was over in a matter of seconds, the young troll was inexperienced and panicked and the knight was full of battle lust. He smiled as she crumpled, kicking the body viciously. Completely ignoring the fact that the troll was still dead he drove his sword in time and time again.

"For my village!" The paladin cried. He stopped, breathing hard and not looking over to where Kat had dropped to her knees on the plains. His ragged breath wasn't the only sound amongst the hills. There were loud footsteps, the sound of someone dragging something, and Var'Jun's wracked voice on the warm air.

"Kat," he called out, dropping the heavy bodies of two young plainstriders and running to the priestess's side. He leaned down, putting a delicate hand on her arm and trying to dig gauze from one of the pockets on his leather vest.

Something quick and threatening passed its shadow across the two. The deceased troll's dirk came whistling down, though this time it was held by Malchior. The blade caught Var'Jun in the face, sending him flicking backwards and moving a hand under his eye where a thin, shallow cut had begun to ooze blood.

"She's hurt, what the hell are you doing?" the troll demanded, his sword drawn already. He looked from Kat, whose tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth and words eluding her. Then his eyes traveled to the body of the dead troll, her legs curled under her crumpled and slashed body. It was not pretty, the body, for Malchior had hacked it to pieces.

"It is you who is a murderer Malchior," the troll fumed, his eyes burning into the paladin with a brand new dislike, "You, who talks so much about how trolls are murderers and thieves. You now kill my brethren. Is that fair Malchior?"

"What can you tell me about fair, Var'Jun, for it was your kind and those like them that set fire to my village. That slew my neighbors, friends, and family. That separated me from Katherine so long and tore me asunder." The paladin smiled as Var'Jun wiped blood from his fresh wound and spit at the knight's feet.

"Maybe you don't have trolls wrong, paladin, why don't I murder you and prove your point?" The warrior took a step forwards, his heavy sword hefted into the air with the practiced ease of the blade's user.

"Stop!" Kat stepped swiftly in front of the paladin, her chest heaving as she fought to stifle the blood pouring from her arm. She stood in the trolls path, her calm green eyes boring into the yellow eyes of the troll.

Var'Jun lowered his sword slowly. He stopped, glancing from the smug paladin to the tired priestess. He sighed softly, shoving the sword into the sheath on his back. He smiled sadly, watching the priestess with a sort of depressed look on his face.

"I should have left sooner," the troll told her sullenly, "There's so much I have to do. I think it best." He smiled wider, turning on his heels and walking away from the pair off towards the meeting place that had been set.

"What did he mean?" Kat demanded, watching the receding figure. She was too weak to walk now, her legs felt like jelly and they crumpled underneath her.

* * *

Yawna yawned, her mouth stretching wide, though not as wide as Weary Traveler's. The wolf curled up at his mistress's hooves, his tail wrapping around his delicate padded paws. They had traveled long that day, but the troll and humans were late. Yawna stared impatiently as a bug crept over a blade of grass.

"They should have been here by now." Gwyn says. She was playing with her bowstring, pulling at it and letting it go with a rhythmic vibrating sound. The elf was losing her patience as well, staring off at the hill in the south for a while. "Should we go find them?"

"No," Yawna stands, smiling to herself thoughtfully, "Here comes Var'Jun over that hill and I think that's Malchior and Kat on the one a bit to the west. Is it me of is Malchior carrying Kat more than she's walking?"

"Believe you're right," Gwyn said. She waited in silence with her tauren friend while the two parties drew closer. Var'Jun was the first to arrive, his face bleeding slightly and the rest of the wound under his eyes scabbed over with dried blood.

"I'm leaving." Var'Jun announced shortly as soon as he was within earshot. She strode past the two females, stopping to shove some of the meat he had gained into his pack. He dumped the rest of the plainstriders at Gwyn's feet.

"I can make it on my own for a while on this. You all keep the rest." He smiled almost warmly, holding out a hand so that the elf would take it. "Nice to meet you Gwyneth. Have fun traveling with all these happy people." He flashed her a smile before moving on to Yawna.

"Where will you go?" Gwyn demanded, one of her long eyebrows raised. She crossed her arms as the tauren and troll clasped hands. "You can't travel alone and you sure as hell aren't going to just stay here."

"I'll go south, alone though. Don't worry, there are things there I have to find out before I can leave. I realize that now." The troll smiled at Yawna. "I hope you find what you're looking for Yawna. You have a lot to lift onto your shoulders."

"I trust your decision Var'Jun. Be careful out there, you won't have us to watch your back." the tauren smiled sadly, shaking her head as Gwyn continued to chide him.

"So you're just going to leave. Head south like they do in stories, eh?" Gwyneth shook her head, pointing to Malchior and Kat. They were drawing close now. "And what of Kat? Are you just going to leave her with-"

"Please," Var'Jun said loudly, then softer, "Please. She'll be better off without me, all of you will." He shook his head, turning his face to the south and heading that direction. As the troll strode off he met up with Malchior and Kat in his path.

He stopped, smiling despondently and looking down at the priestess. For once Malchior stayed blessedly silent a few feet away from the two. Var'Jun chuckled softly and pulled the priestess into a warm embrace.

As Kat stiffened he paused as if contemplating something. Then with another light chuckle the troll pressed a troll of bandages into her hand. "Take care Kat." He smiled as he walked past a stricken Malchior.

"Take good care of her, you, otherwise I'll haunt you from the grave." The troll growled as he passed the paladin. When Malchior said nothing he flashed a toothy grin and headed off to the south until his was a tiny receding shadow on the road.

"But I need you _all._" Kat whispered to the gauze softly.

Late that night the priestess stayed awake. Her dreams were haunted and she couldn't help but feel something was wrong. For a moment she looked about the silent plains before she saw Weary Traveler's flashing green eyes in the dark. He began to growl, soft and low, before standing jaggedly.

"Surrender your arms." A loud voice cut across the dark and Kat felt a dagger press to the back of her throat. "If you're lucky you'll all make it through this."

* * *

A/N: Wow, that's a huge cliffhanger. 'VAR'JUN NO!' right? Well I ain't gonna tell you what's happening until the next chapter. Anyhow, sorry this one took so long to write. I was having writers block in the middle, plus I was also playing Kingdom hearts and that is an addictive game folks! And I was making an AMV (anime music video). Another hint, I always thought Var'Jun's sword looked a bit like Cloud's from Final Fantasy Seven. Anyhow, waiting for next installment you must! 


	8. Web

Disclaimer: …. Really, what do you people want? Don't sue me, don't blame me, and I swear to the gods I won't come into court wearing pajamas. I don't own Warcraft, I don't even legally own my own car! So. Really. What do you expect?

A/N: 'Ello and welcome back everyone. I'm sort of bored, so once again I take my fingers to the keyboard and begin construction of another chapter of Raincaller. Writing this story is a roller coaster, up and down, up and down, up and…

Anyhow, welcome to the wonderful world of Var'Jun's crazy personality Kyn. He is, by far, one of the most fun characters to write for. Especially when he's drunk, I love that troll when he's drunk. You'll be seeing more or Var'Jun drunk and with hangovers later. Var'Jun has many redeeming qualities, but doesn't often show them. His past will unravel, just as everyone's will in this story. Cairne is an interesting thought…..

And for Ashti, it's always nice to see some new reviewers. I must admit, Raincaller started as a rather jagged story because I was unused to writing for Yawna, but now I have her down pat. She is rather hard to write for though because she refuses to fight. What am I gonna do when they get into an actual battle? Anyhow, yes Var'Jun did split. That troll has quite an agenda, let me tell you. I ain't tellin' you where he went though!

And Crimson Reaper, shame on you for ditching me for Arthas! Just joking, thanks for popping by. I'm going to end up killing you all with cliffies.

And wow, stay out of my brain Bloodyfields. No more spying around my house! Anyhow, you people like the OMG thing a lot….

So, without further ado, here's is a very nice chapter eight.

* * *

Chapter Eight: Web 

Var'Jun sighed softly. His arms still tingled with the memory of Kat's warmth within them. He resisted the urge to turn around though he knew no one had followed him. He had told them not to anyhow, though somewhere inside he had wanted any one of them to call out or beg him to stay. Anyone but Malchior that was.

The troll shook his head as if to rid himself of the image of the paladin. His blind hatred had stuck a stone into the warrior's stomach which seemed to make him writhe and wriggle. He couldn't fend off the thought that there was something of Malchior he had missed, something below the usual paladin's righteous thoughts and below the human's insatiable nature to prejudice against those unlike him.

As the troll plodded on his feet felt heavy. He had grown quite accustomed to the constant noises of traveling with others. He missed the companionship, the feeling that others around would defend him if necessary. He chuckled to himself, recalling his constant bickering with the priestess and the utter disdain that Gwyn and Yawna had put towards these arguments.

"I could do with a good cup of ale right now," the troll voiced aloud, "Anything with alcohol really."

Something behind him whined softly. The troll spun around, his sword already drawn and glimmering with the half light that now spanned across the plains that were doused in moonlight. Var'Jun had already recognized the sound as the whine of a wolf. Though it was not the usual eager whine of hunger it was a wolf and Var'Jun was not prepared to be cornered by a pack of the beasts.

Instead he was met by the green-eyed gaze of Weary Traveler. The ash grey and black wolf yawned widely, sitting down on his haunches and scratching at a flea on his ear. The wolf's tongue lolled out almost comically and he seemed to smile at the troll.

"Yawna sent you after me, didn't she?" The troll asked with a bit of hesitation. He knew it was foolish, but the wolf seemed almost human at times and even though the troll expected little answer he still felt the need to ask. "To watch me?"

To the warriors surprise Weary Traveler nodded, his fangs gleaming as the lupine grin spread wider. The troll shook his head, chuckling to himself despite the fact that he began to feel the nostalgic biting of his need for his friends.

"Leave it to Yawna to get a wolf to do that."

* * *

"Now," the voice continued with a slight rasp, the dagger curling around to lightly touch the throat of the priestess, "Let's see exactly what this camp holds." In the dim firelight Kat looked over. Already she could see that Yawna, who had been on guard at the moment, was holding up her hands in resignation. 

"Sorry," Yawna smiled coolly as she spotted Kat's face, 'I couldn't kill them though. You know me." She chuckled lightly, her eyes roving to a figure by her side. Kat recoiled when she realized it was an undead. The hunched figure's eyes blinked red from deep set in his head.

"Quite alright, my tauren sister." the figure in front of her called out. Upon further inspection this too was revealed in the half light that another undead was holding the dagger to her neck. This undead was dressed far more finely though, with ruby and wine hued robes that made her suspect him a summoner.

The undead straightened up, his polished voice oozing with a charm that made the priestess want to gag. "They don't seem to be hostile towards each other, except of course the paladin. But otherwise, tauren mistress, I promise they won't be harmed."

Yawna nodded, her face half shadowed. But behind it Kat thought she saw something glimmering in the tauren's eyes, and it was an anger she had never seen from the tauren before.

"Tie the Alliance members up," the undead in front of Kat roared to his unseen troupes, "Don't harm any of them thought, lest you want your life to be taken away from you." The trouped shuffled forth and Kat felt a few dead, cold hands grasp her own and pull them behind her, tough ropes tied around her wrists not so tight so that they hurt but still were not escapable.

"You are now my prisoners, for you were caught in my territory." the undead summoner cleared his throat and farther off Kat heard Malchior yelling and Gwyn grumbling to herself.

"Your territory?" Yawna demanded, looking about her as if to check she was still in Mulgore, "Since when do the undead own the tauren's holy lands?" Despite the tauren's usual calm sense she felt her hair stand on end when around this new undead. The summoner was strange, and try as she might she could sense nothing from the undead's mind. No feelings floated around him, like he had raised a barrier against her.

"How long has it been since you have been into a well built town?" The undead demanded, completely ignoring the tauren's question. He twiddled with his robed impatiently, gleaming fangs bared as he smiled to himself. Everything was going according to plan for the summoner.

"Long," Yawna replied through clenched teeth, "Moons now. Why?"

"Because," The summoner answered with his polished tones of patience, "The undead have claimed this area of Mulgore as their own. We received no complaints from the tauren, they seem to be subdued as of late. Dwarves are moving in from the west, but they've done nothing. Anyhow, any Alliance dog caught on these grounds is our prisoner by right."

"Can anything be debated?" Yawna asked, her eyes roving over to where Gwyneth was standing. The night elf was staring at the undead summoner, her eyes flashing in the night. Though the tauren could not see her face she felt something strange creeping through her. Gwyn, as an oracle, always had some degree of a wall built against the Awareness, but Yawna had been trained by Two-Moons to penetrate such things. The huntress winced as a blast of anger came from the elf.

The summoner scratched his chin and interrupted her with his rasping voice. Yawna had to strain to understand the summoner through his strange accent as his rotting mouth tried hard to form words that were meant for supple lips.

With a pang of sorrow Yawna recalled how she had struggled at first to understand Var'Jun through his thick, jungle accent. It had been hard at first, but the accent that would be compared to our day Caribbean style soon grew to another personality trait of the troll. Yawna pushed these thoughts aside and wondered briefly whether Weary Traveler had found the warrior.

"We could take you back to camp. The Alliance members will have to come, but you my tauren sister, you have a choice. If you come we can debate the outcome of their trespassing, but if not I can guarantee that they will become… toys." The summoner cleared his throat before speaking again, "My troupes are always looking for sword practice and the… the night elf and human are most appetizing for soldiers stuck alone and lonely after battles."

Yawna saw Kat lurch away from the grasp of an undead holding her, her face a mask of horror as she realized what the summoner was saying. She was soon overtaken by two more of them, a stifled cry escaping her lips and starting ranting from Malchior once more.

"I choose to come," Yawna replied evenly, looking at the summoner as if one would look at a piece of rotting meat offered to them as a meal. "I'm Yawna" She held out her hand, the three-fingered digit a peace offering. Yawna winced as the rotting hand took her own and a great surge of emotions ran through her fingertips. Mostly there was contempt and the feeling made Yawna instantly sick to her stomach.

"My name," the undead smiled, " Is Thralk."

* * *

As they entered camp Gwyneth froze. She retched softly, startling the undead that was guiding her and making him mumble something about night elves. The oracle doubled over, almost collapsing on the ground. Her captor kicked her legs roughly, alerting Yawna through her Awareness. 

"Hey," Thralk barked, his voice rough and grating, "I made a promise they would not be harmed. I'll mount your head on a stick and roast it up good if it happens again, do ya' hear?" The undead shrugged at the huntress.

"Can't help some things. You can go aide her if you want. I trust you to keep her by you though, because if you don't I'll make sure the humans take the elf's share of the pain."

Yawna nodded and as Thralk spat out more orders for the undead Yawna made her way over the elf. Gwyn's long hair was hung in her eyes and she seemed to be having trouble breathing. As Yawna approached she sensed a huge amount of fear coursing through the elf's mind.

"A vision," Gwyn hissed as Yawna drew near enough, "I had a vision. A terrible one, Yawna. There was so much blood." The elf trailed off before allowing Yawna to help her stand properly. She looked up into the calm tauren's face, her mind ringing with her vision.

"Just death," Gwyn began to walk again, aware of the undead around her, "That's all I saw Yawna. And then," again the elf paused, "I heard Two-Moons speaking Yawna. He told me to beware and… another prophecy… more than you have known."

Just before Gwyn was about to repeat their old mentor's warning Thralk called back to the worried tauren.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave your friends now. They must be taken to the prisons, though I assure you nothing will befall them without my consent. You may come with me to discuss our little arrangements."

With an apologetic look to the elf and humans Yawna continued after the undead summoner. Her fur stood on end in this camp, bad feelings resonating through the area. The soldiers were angry and afraid, their eyes burning into the tauren's back as she followed Thralk.

They reached a tent, the large structure compiled of heavy Kodo leather and thick poles of wood. The summoner welcomed inside, barking more orders for food and drink as he let the flap close. Inside was a heavy throne of wood and gems, though it seemed out of place. There was a table surrounded by chairs and a map laid out on top of it, areas marked in red and purple dyes. The entire tent smelled of blood and old meat, making Yawna retch and gag before composing herself.

"Sit, sit," the summoner offered his smile widening as the undead brought them bread, cheese, and wine. Pouring a glass of the burgundy liquid Thralk began to sketch out his point.

"You are traveling with these Alliance member's are you not?" Thralk asked softly, his voice dipped in sweet sugar but his tone still worming its way through, like a tainted meat disguised by heavy spices.

"I was traveling with these people of Azeroth, yes. The truth is that the Horde and Alliance are no different. We are all part of this world and should be working together to revive the damage we've done to the earth."

"Spoken like a true tauren, sister." Thralk chuckled into his wine glass, the burgundy liquid staining his fangs a dull berry hue. He put down the cup thoughtfully, his fingers folding up into a steeple.

"But what you really wanted to talk about is your… friends. See, I have really no choice but to let the soldiers do with them what they will, but somehow that weighs down on my conscience too much with you here pleading for their release." Thralk chuckled as he stared at the tauren. Spreading his own Awareness out slowly he began to try and probe the huntress's young mind. His anger was doubled behind his mental shield as soon as he found the almost impenetrable wall Yawna had cast around her mind.

Yawna's ear twitched. She almost immediately felt the tug at her mind, the odd feeling that someone was trying to intrude. She didn't look about though and not once did she suspect Thralk of the deed.

"I was hoping you could just let them go, yes. What have they done to you?" Yawna's question was an annoying gnat in the undead's ear. He snorted, his lip curling in slight contempt.

"We fight them because they burnt down our villages and killed our families. This latest outburst of tactics is not to be excused. They can't leave their wake of destruction from their bloody boats here in Mulgore." Thralk smiled to himself as the tauren looked down at the table with her eyes full of sorrow.

"You must have been affected by the fires then," Thralk stood slowly, easing himself up and making his robes rustle. He walked around the table until he was behind the tauren, his breath bated with anticipation.'

"But so have they," Yawna chose not to answer the question. Her mind was buzzing with a warning that made her hackles raise. She could feel Thralk breathing on her neck through her thick black mane and braids. She tensed, mistrust pouring through the Awareness like milk from a pitcher.

"Well, maybe Two-Moons was right then," the undead leaned down and hissed into her ear as the tauren's eyes widened, "This is the time of Burning."

Before the tauren could say anything else he straightened up, a satisfied smirk gracing his countenance. The pain that coursed through the tauren at the mention of her mentor made the undead feel powerful and he opened his mouth slightly as if to taste it on the air.

"Please leave me now. You may walk about camp for a short while whilst I think of my answer to your request. Beware of the soldiers though, sister, they have loose tongues and lies in their heads." The stunned tauren allowed herself to be guided out by the malicious summoner. Her reveled at the thought of her confusion and utter torment as Thralk let Two-Moon's name slide through his lips.

As soon as the bewildered tauren exited Thralk called in one of his men. The undead squirmed as he was faced by his leader for the mad glint had come back into Thralk's eyes. The undead had heard tales of his leader's cruelty and near madness. The undead shook.

"Fetch me the elf that was taken prisoner. I'll meet her in the stone dais, set guards in a twenty foot perimeter outside of it." Thralk sat watching the undead , who was waiting for more orders, shake like a leaf in Autumn, " What are you waiting for? Go!"

Well Gwyneth, let's hear your excuse." Thralk spoke to the air, his teeth clenched.

* * *

"You know, I'm not going back. Staying with me is not going to help, wolf." Var'Jun wrinkled his nose, picking at the remains of his meal and the fading bits of daylight. The troll threw the remains of the Plainstrider at Weary Traveler who threw back his head and gulped it down. 

"Besides," the troll spoke half to himself and half to the wolf who he knew couldn't answer, "It's better for all of them if I left. I'm going to turn myself in anyways, running is far too hard." The troll threw back his head, laughing hard in an almost insane manner. "If there's anything left of my village that is. They'll be surprised to see me too, like a ghost waltzing into town."

When the first traces of dawn peered their heads over the hills they found the troll still fast asleep. He stirred in the light, sensitive and full rested. But the nagging thoughts of his friends still plagued Var'Jun and as he slowly moved south his strength deteriorated quicker than usual.

"Over the next hill," Var'Jun promised the wolf that followed him, "And then you'll hear yelling. Oh yes, they'll be so angry I've returned. It's too bad Malchior's not here right now, eh Weary Traveler? He'd so love to watch me get dragged away by my own friends." With another bitter laugh Var'Jun crested the hill, his old homeland meeting his eyes with the fires of a still burning hatred.

Var'Jun began, shaking his head and muttering the old rhyme to himself. "Oh what a tangled web we weave…"

* * *

Sorry about the shorter-than-usual chapter. See, I just got this new game, Katamari Damacy and it's really fun. I mean, c'mon, I haven't even beaten it yet. But since this chapter is so short I'm gonna try and get another one out soon… maybe. If you're all lucky. I've been procrastinating lately. And to tell you the truth, I have very right to (or not). I'm in New England, it's all snowy and warm and drippy and cold here… if that's even possible. But that makes me lazy. And really, this is no excuse. shakes head Anyhow, leave a review and I promise to get back soon, everyone pray I don't brake it…. 


	9. Retribution

Disclaimer: Still… with the owning and the not…ing…. Pretty much, lets get this straight. I will probably have to write this thing 30 times or more in my life time… and maybe others. I just write this so Blizzard doesn't sue me. Please Blizz, I'm your worthy follower, don't bring your lawyers!

A/N: Here we are again, a perfectly crisp spring day with the sun on my head and the wind in my hair. And here I am again, writing fan fiction and totally loving it. Here's some comments!

Oh Crimson Reaper, sneaky, sneaky! Yah, Var'Jun did sound a little drunken there. I thought it was sort of funny, rambling half to himself and half to Weary Traveler. Which of course is my skewered idea of funny. Var'Jun sounds like he needs a good six pack, he's gone sort of loopy in the sun. Yah, there's a kill off coming soon, some more twists (big ones!) and some blood/gore/violence as you so poetically put it.

DIE, DIE, DIE! Yah, Malchior must get that a lot Maithgean. He really is an evil person, and don't worry. I have something nice in mind for him. Evil eyes And very perceptive of you. I've been waiting for someone to discover Var'Jun's game counterpart, but I've never heard of Maur Raincaller. I thought Raincaller was my name... poo.

And, to all those who reviewed after I wrote the beginning, then a happy day to you all and here's chapter nine!

* * *

Chapter Nine: Retribution

Gwyn froze as another blow rained down upon her back. She could feel her leather armor giving way, the whip in the undead's hand slicing with ease through air and flesh and cloth.

"Enough," Thralk smiled, his rasping voice causing his man to freeze in mid swing and the shivering elf on the ground to tense. Her pain filled his Awareness and made him feel indomitable. He breathed in the air that was mixed with suffering to taste the druids fear.

"You may leave now. Tell the guards to come no closer if they value their pathetic flesh. I'll call to them if need be." Thralk turned his attention away from the fleeting undead rouge and back to Gwyneth. Her breath was labored and hard, her hands pulling at the rocks in the ground.

"Well Gwyneth, what do you have to say for yourself? Would you like to tell me why Yawna isn't dead yet, hm?" Thralk kicked the elf in the side with a steel tipped boot. The summoner could not be bothered to get his hands dirty when whipping the elf, but he could manage this.

"You-you did not… you did not hold up your end of the bargain." Gwyn gasped out with effort. She rolled over on to her side, easing herself up into a sitting position so she could fix a gaze of venom Thralk's way.

"Oh but I did." Thralk assured her, reaching out a rotting hand to pet the night elf on the head. She could hardly throw him off, but her skin prickled under his touch and she spat at his feet.

"You see," Thralk continued, his voice dripping with patience in a way Yawna's did, but the smooth and polished patience in which he was slyly persuasive. "I promised you the safety of your mother and her council. I never promised the safety of the caravan, nothing could be done about that sadly. But it was a healthy persuasion. You were not working fast enough."

"You double crossed me. I never expected you to raid the caravan for my mother and her council. Maybe I thought you would watch them from a distance like a civil Azerothan. Not like a beast."

"But dear Gwyneth, I never take chances. Now be kind and tell me your latest vision, I know it was quite a large piece pf the puzzle." Thralk leant close to the elf, his rancid breath making her grimace.

"I.. I can't remember it." Gwyn faltered, her memory producing the image of Yawna's calm face. As an oracle Gwyn was almost forced to be a shell for all prophecies, especially on the Awareness. When it came to whom she'd rather serve Yawna was top choice, but Thralk had threatened her mother.

"Maybe your mother could remind you. Shall I bring her out for you to see? It might take days, but we could hurry her." Thralk smiled as a change passed over the night elf's face. She stiffened and seemed to think hard before replying.

"Well, it was just a vision of flames and a voice spoke me the first part of the prophecy…"

Thralk cleared his throat before reciting dutifully:

"'_Bonds of friendship must be made_

_In order to disprove what lies have been laid._

_Where forces of hatred do conspire,_

_Only rain can quench the fire.'"_

Gwyn nodded. Her eyes were frantic, a haunted look swirling in them. She seemed frantic for a fleeting second and Thralk balked for a moment, watching her with scrupulous eyes when she continued with a deep breath:

"'_Scars of past in tattered hope,_

_Twin Awareness, tight walk rope._

_Light and dark. Blood and fire._

_See the blindness through the mire._'"

"_Only when Light doth pass,_

_Through the blindness rain does mass_

_Darkness wary eye does see,'"_

Gwyneth paused here, her breathe bated. She looked up at Thralk and he thought he saw daring in her eyes. But the undead summoner was on edge. He was sure that Yawna was the light and he the dark. What he would see would be revealed through the elf's words.

"Yes?" Thralk said, his voice lost of all threat and more of an anticipation and hunger in the tones.

"' _Untainted victory.'"_

Thralk purred with pleasure. His mouth curved into a smile from which the flesh dripped, ever rotting. His gums peeled from his teeth, stretched so wide they pulled and began to bleed. But Thralk cared little, for he was laughing. His mirthful laughter turned insane and made Gwyneth huddle up miserably on the ground below him.

"Test that, Yawna," Thralk gave Gwyn another bleeding grin, "A prophecy that brings her hope now portrays her downfall."

* * *

Var'Jun paused on the lip of the knoll. His heart ached, for his home was in ruins. What was left of the attacked village was only the broken and whimpering shacks that still were stained with smoke. The troll had been gone months, yet the bodies of undead littered the ground. Var'Jun curled his lip in disgust over his long tusks. They were fresh bodies.

A few trolls and orcs began to slowly emerge from the desolate hobbles. Most of them looked weak, frail, and sickly. Their skin was pulled gaunt over their ribs and a few of them were staring at Var'Jun with a strange hunger. Other's looked a little less worse in body, but their spirits were down. They were stained with fresh and old blood and carried chipped and rusty weapons.

"So," A deep voice boomed, a mocking strand threaded through the words, "The Lost Prince returns once more. Have you come to claim the throne, to lead your slaves back into battle. Or will you just allow us to kill you now? Maybe you have brought some friends from the Alliance to help?"

It was so good to hear the troll language spoken again. Var'Jun prepared to revert from the common language to the troll's again, for traveling with Kat and Gwyn had forced Yawna and he to speak in the common language. Var'Jun had learned it from his mother, who said he should know all languages just in case he ever need them. He could have had no way of knowing that Two-Moons had the same principle brought out in Yawna.

Var'Jun winced as the speaker came forwards though. When Var'Jun had left Mitka had been a very healthy and strong troll with cords of thick muscle. But now, after Var'Jun had fled the fire, Mitka had been transformed. He was a wiry skeleton, skin pulled taut over ribs and one of his tusks snapped off at the base. The most noticeable difference though, was an ugly burn that formed half of his face into marred flesh, a miracle his eye had survived at all.

"Mitka, I never-"

"Silence!" Mitka roared, his hand clenching on an aging saber, " You never meant to leave us in our time of need? You never meant to abandon your responsibility to the throne? You never meant to allow Alliance members into our borders?"

"You sure are full of questions today Mitka." Var'Jun smiled weakly. Internally he winced, pain overflowing his heart like flood waters from a river.

"And you are full of bravery. Why have you returned, coming back does you no good. Prince or not, your treachery and abandonment will not go unnoticed. Punishable by death whether you come quietly or not."

Var'Jun nodded, his head bobbing up and down with ease. He was agreeing his life away. Most of the surrounding trolls and orcs eyed him as if he were mad, others looked around as if suspecting ambush.

Only one did not react with surprise or hostility. It was a female troll with flaming red hair that was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her skin was a light creamy green and she was dressed in the clothes of a warrior that had been starved lately, patched hanging loose where they should have been taut.

"Peace Mitka," The troll sighed softly, laying a hand over the saber and guiding it's tip to the ground, "Var'Jun has acted rashly, but he may still redeem himself. Killing him now would be a deep wound to Meh'rah."

"Where is my mother?" Var'Jun interrupted the trolls softly. He had suddenly recognized her with a sickening jolt. His childhood friend Gar'Ihn looked at him now with the face of an adult with ancient eyes. He had caused her great suffering once.

In his young foolishness Var'Jun had sought to connect Alliance and Horde. He had found a warrior in the mountains who promised negotiation. When Var'Jun had guided him back to the trolls camp he had slaughtered all in his sight. Or at least he had tried to. Instead he had wounded five, only succeeding in killing Gar'Ihn's mother.

"We must talk to you," Gar'Ihn said softly, her face constricted with pain. Mitka snorted, following her as she led Var'Jun into a nearby hobble. The crowd parted as the warrior was led into his ruined home, the people silent as their prince returned.

When Var'Jun was safely out of the crowd's earshot he was offered a chair at a dusty table across from Mitka and Gar'Ihn. It was then that they began to piece together the story, and even though Var'Jun rested his hand on Weary Traveler's head he still felt the urge to be with his friends once more.

"Your mother, Var'Jun, the Queen of the Thornweave Out Casts, is dead. Slain by an undead no less, and not just any undead, but the King of the Undead nowadays. When the fires struck your home and you fled to escape your duties the feared summoner Thralk slipped a sword through your mother's ribs." Gar'Ihn placed a hand over Var'Jun's, "Meh'rah is dead."

A few bitter tears of sorrow clung to Var'Jun's eyes. He blinked them away, refusing to weep. He had been taught never to show emotions. He would not give up his teachings now.

"That makes me-"

"The undisputed Prince," Mitka snorted, "And when you finally take a wife, the undisputed King. And do you know where that leaves me, one who suffered so much for my home and did not _abandon_ it when the times of danger came. It leaves me still, Mitka of the Burn. Still nothing more." Mitka ran a delicate finger down the marred flesh on his face, his tusks bared fully as his lips curled upwards.

"You've been gone so long," Gar'Ihn said softly, ignoring Mitka and watching Var'Jun teary-eyed, "It's like you're coming back from the dead."

"Wait," Var'Jun said, realization dawning on his face, "An _undead_ slayed my mother? But we are allies." When this was met by blank faces Var'Jun's stomach plummeted into his toes.

"You don't know?" Mitka asked, his eyes betraying suspicion, "The undead have declared themselves a separate party. They fight to overtake all other races. Most of the orcs have already surrendered to their massive numbers and Tauren have been forced to surrender their holy lands. They are lead by an ambitious summoner, Thralk. He came her negotiating during the fire, promising he'd put it out in exchange for our lands, money, and children."

"Children?" Var'Jun asked, "What would he want with children?"

"A new army," Gar'Ihn replied heavily. When your mother refused he killed her and left us to burn. The undead have branched away. The orcs and Tauren will fall to their might, wait and see. Soon they will be our overlords."

A silence hung between them for a while, like a heavy rain cloud in the air. It was a long time before anyone spoke, but finally Var'Jun's lips parted with regret as he stood slowly.

"I'm afraid now I can't let you kill me." Var'Jun mumbled apologetically, his head bowed, "I came here today with every intention of letting myself fall into your hands and allowing myself to die. It was a quick escaper, but now I see not the right route. Please, don't force me, because I will fight back."

Mitka and Gar'Ihn watched him with gazes that half measured anger and half measured agreement. It was Mitka who finally nodded with reluctance, his words sliding out of his mouth as he rolled them about on his tongue to get a feel for them.

"I hail to you Prince Var'Jun, for once again you have baffled me with your mood swings," Mitka of the Burn stood before his long hated enemy and his Lord and held out a hand. A peace offering. When the agreement was shaken upon warmly Mitka smiled for the first time in quite a while.

"I suppose we can let you slip away, and let me tell you this is the only chance you'll get. But first you must answer a question from me. Who are the companions I see that your eyes pine for so much?"

Var'Jun blinked, looking down at Weary Traveler. He sighed softly, knowing full well that no matter where he traveled he would still be putting himself and anyone around him in danger. It was a terrible ordeal that could kill anyone Var'Jun loved, including his mother.

"There is no one." Var'Jun said softly, putting a heavy hand on Mitka's shoulder. "There never was anyone. Who would put up with me?" With a sad smile that made Gar'Ihn's heart ache the Troll slipped out through the tent flap, one last flick of his wrist the only goodbye that his hand could offer.

"There is someone," Mitka growled softly, "Var'Jun always was a poor liar."

"I will follow him for a short while and make sure no harm comes his way from our people." With barely a sound Gar'Ihn slipped out through the tent flap as well, her tall ears tickling the top of the entrance and exit.

Gar'Ihn caught up to the stealthy troll easily. He had slipped with the practiced facility of a Prince royal past the guards that had watched over him when he was a child. Gar'Ihn snorted in frustration as she was forced to lie to the protectors in order to gain passage. Not more than once did she wish for the fluidity and strength of the trolls born with royal blood.

Var'Jun had already detected her presence behind him. With hope he could drive her away without having to turn violent. It would be easier if no one would accompany him on this journey, for he knew the dangers that came with being an assassin of a major figure. He would find Thralk and snatch his revenge from his foes cold fingers.

"Var'Jun wait," Gar'Ihn hissed as she reached his stride. They stood on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast expanse of ever-shifting plain grass and a small oasis that offered life to many a different creature.

"You can not follow me Gar'Ihn. It is far too dangerous for anyone to be with me."

"But what of the woman that would face to danger _to_ be with you." Gar'Ihn hissed back, her face suddenly pulled into a taut grimace, "What will you tell her?"

"But Gar… You and Mitka are-"

"Engaged, and it is not long after that I will bear him a fine little warrior. I don't speak of me Prince," Gar'Ihn smiled almost smugly, "You take too much credit for yourself. What about the look that I see in your eyes? She must be a lucky troll Var'Jun."

The warrior glanced down at his feet, unable to say anything. For a long moment there was a silence only interrupted by Weary Traveler's wheezy laugh.

"Do not push those who care for you away Var'Jun. The last thing I ever said to my mother is that I hated her. I've spent all my life looking back on that. Don't make my mistake, draw close the ones you love."

Long after Gar'Ihn had headed back to camp and the moon had begun to rise did Var'Jun look North again. Thoughts of a rag-tag band of misfits traveled through his mind. The oracle druidess, the huntress, the paladin (unfortunately), and most of all the priestess.

* * *

Yawna's hooves clacked the small rocks that littered the trodden down dirt. The undead camp was a restricting vice, the minds and sadness of these undead soldiers closing in on her with a strength like no other. The pressure on her mind hurt, but Yawna had to find her friends.

A small cry made Yawna jump out of her skin. She had run into unfamiliar territory in her haste. Her mind played back the images from only moments before. Thralk had known Two-Moons, but things didn't add up. Two-Moons had never mentioned an undead with such a strong mind. The huntress whimpered faintly.

But the cry had come from something else. It was more of a child's cry, a small tent to the right surrounded heavily by guards was the source. Above the tent flap was a streak of black paint that signified the undead colors and below that, a streak of crimson. Blood red crimson.

Yawna's Awareness picked up a feeling of intense suffering and fear from within the tent. She unwittingly found herself stumbling towards it, her arms raised slightly as if to absorb the shock of being near the terrible structure. One guard saw her first, his mouth twisting into a yell of warning. The second spotted Yawna as well, his spear barring her way to the tent flap.

Yawna recognized the second guard as the same undead who had served Thralk and her the wine and cheese in his tent. An idea sparked in her head and she bent gracefully down on to one knee in front of the undead.

"Please," she begged, "I come bearing a cal from Lord Thralk. He has need of both of you in his tent. I am a messenger to him. I am to guard the ten while you two are away." Disbelief crossed the undeads' faces as this statement was made.

"Prove it," the familiar guard called out, his eyes roving over her like a hawk stalks a mouse.

"Only minutes ago Thralk and I sat, eating good white cheese with chestnuts in it and drinking smooth grape wine." Yawna almost laughed as the undead's face became dumbstruck. He paused, nodded at the first guard, and then lifted his spear and stalked off, his companion following close behind.

It was dark now, so when Yawna stepped into the tent she could see very little. She called out a soft hello, the bellowing and yet gracefully swooning arches of a tauren's voice slipping into the tent. A soft chorus of whimpers followed from the inhabitants of this hobble and then a light switched on.

"Oh, how very clever of you Yawna. Really, you are too much." Thralk's face loomed out from the shadows cast by a grim and dirty little lantern. Around him were dozens of children, undead children. Their faces were so stricken with fear and angst that they looked more like specters of stories than living creatures. They were as far away from Thralk as possible, gathered in dirty rags and bare feet with their childish innocence.

In his hands Thralk held a small undead child. She was young, no more than three perhaps. The summoner held her on her back, her face staring out at Yawna with her mind screaming into the Tauren's. "_Please get him away."_

"And now I find the extent of your power," Thralk said softly. Her chuckled, his hands suddenly tightening. There was a sickening snap throughout the tent and the little child in Thralk's arms went limp, her spine bent a way no spine should go.

Yawna fell to the floor, her own body in flames of torment. She felt the young life slip away and watched as Thralk drank in the pain, his mind strengthening by folds. Yawna weakened further and Thralk nodded.

"Interesting," he leant his head down, his neck popping with the sounds of age and his eyes gazing at the tauren as his teeth pierced the shoulder of the body, tearing away a chunk of flesh which slipped down his red throat. Cannibalism was an undead skill.

Yawna screamed in agony, her mind and body crumpling into one large mass and laying limp on the ground.

"Untainted victory," Thralk breathed.

* * *

"Don't worry Kat, I'll watch over you." Malchior said for what must have been the hundredth time. He smiled weakly at the priestess, his hands still trying to free themselves of their bonds.

"I can take care of myself," Kat snarled. Her temper was frayed, sitting in the dark prison that was constantly guarded by warriors who Kat had remember Var'Jun describing once as 'past their life expectancy date.' The undead made her spine crawl and she shuffled her feet, her mind reeling.

"I'm more worried about how Yawna and Gwyn are faring. It can't be any better than us, probably worse. To tell you the truth, we are probably unharmed compared to what might be happening to them."

"Oh, I'm sure the tauren is alright," Malchior spit with contempt, "It was leading us into a trap all along anyhow. It and the undead are probably allies."

"Please," Kat barked angrily, the closed her eyes and replied more softly, "Please don't start Malchior. I can't stand it when you start to talk about the Horde."

Kat was sure the paladin would have begun again nevertheless, but there was a stirring outside. Kat heard clear undead voices drifting thorough the tent.

"Thralk declared open range on the male. Whatever anyone wants to do with him, he's yours. Would make good target practice I daresay. Looks like he's be a good runner." The voice was low and raspy as if someone were rattling a cupboard of gravel along with the tones.

"And what of the woman?" The voice was quick and lilting, filled with a hunger that would have made the back of a cat arch.

Kat began to tremble.

"Thralk had given her to me." The first voice said, a shadow blocking out the light on the tent door. "He thought I could relieve some tension."

* * *

Wow, that was the worst cliffie I think I've left you people with yet. Sorry, there wasn't much of Yawna or Kat in these chapters, but the up coming ones have a lot. All you anime fans can check out my new Trigun fic if you want to. It's actually not too bad. Sorry about this chapter coming out so late. My computer and me had some issues that needed to be solved. mace and chain We are all better now. And until next time…

Remember that procrastination is just like masturbation, it's only fun until you realize that you are just screwing yourself.


	10. Rise Again

Disclaimer: NO! It's not mine!

A/N: Bwa hah! Here I am again. It's a beautiful spring afternoon in both Procrastination Land and New England. Birds are singing, then forgetting. Bunnies are hopping, but then sleeping cause they're too lazy. And ducks a putting off having little ducklings. What's new?

Yes Reaper, far more violence then I've been leaning on lately. More to come, now is where it begins to get juicy! And Azure Dragoness, I am far from ending. And I always put cliffies. It's either that or pay you guys to come back!

Not many reviews since I wrote, so not many credits. And without more credits, here's chapter ten! I might be stretching some things here with spells, but whatever. Forgive me please. And if anyone noticed, I solved the language problem in Chapter Eight.

P.S: I just realized I hit thirty reviews! That is spectacular!

* * *

Chapter Ten: Rise Again

Gwyneth smirked with pleasure as the undead showed her the new prison that would hold her. Anyone else would have tried desperately to escape from the gruesome chains that were wrapped around the wrists of a dead Tauren corpse. The undead kicked that viciously aside, unlocking the cuffs and tightening them around Gwyn's wrists. They should have used a cage.

"Thralk will be back to deal with you later." one undead sniffed with some guilt. Like most of the undead in the army he was not used to treating prisoners in such a way. Thralk taught them to erase their mercy, pity, and tolerance to make way for a better beginning. Most undead liked these things just where they were.

As the undead exited Gwyn let her muscles relax. It was an old trick taught to her by her father. Tense your muscles and they grow bigger, relax them and they shrink. The cuffs were fit to tensed muscles, but this alone would not stop the cuffs from constricting her. Luckily Gwyn had another trick up her sleeve.

The druid summoned power to her being, letting the aide of nature course through her veins and instill her with what blessings it could offer. Gwyneth smiled now, her mouth lengthening into a long golden muzzle that was dappled with dark blotches. Her hands became delicate paws with sharp, talon-like claws that flexed and twitched. Gwyneth could now move a long golden tail and flick the ears on the sides of her head. The travel form was graced to the druid.

Gwyn slipped her slight cheetah's paws through the chain cuffs. It came easily and her paws slipped through what now seemed to be a large loop around her wrist. With satisfaction Gwyn allowed her fluid body to slip around the prison. She knew there were guards outside, but her druid prowess defended her against that as well.

Closing her eyes Gwyn spent much more of her energy on calling forth a new spell. Instantly she became ghostly to her own eyes, staring right through her powerful legs and down onto the rocks on the floor of the tent. But the spell would not last long and it would be even a shorter amount of time before her captors checked on her. Time was of essence.

The spell kept Gwyn shielded against other eyes and it was not long before her cheetah's nose had picked up the scent of her frantic Tauren friend. Gwyn's mouth opened partially, her tongue drinking in the scent of another being not long passed. Thralk.

Gwyneth followed the trail, listening to the exclamation of the guards in back of her as they found her missing.

* * *

Yawna awoke to a blazing head ache. It was not more then three minutes after she had first fainted. Thralk was still there, she noticed, glowering at her. He had dropped the body of the child, but instead he was watching Yawna with a face of interest and chewing placidly on something that made Yawna sick all over again.

"It's strange, your reaction." Thralk remarked as if it were the most interesting thing he had heard yet, "You suffer when you feel pain and yet flourish when it is thrust at others. You draw strength from people who are despaired, but suffer from it as well. Exactly how do you work, and why does the Prophecy see you as such a large threat?"

Yawna shivered backwards as Thralk neared down beside her. He sniffed softly, as if testing her by this before looking strongly into her eyes. His brimmed with cruelty, red little beads set far back into his skull.

"An oracle told me the next part of the prophecy," Thralk remarked nonchalantly, standing with a swoosh of his robes, " Shall I tell it to you. I must admit. It seals you fate."

Thralk cleared his throat and began:

""'_Bonds of friendship must be made_

_In order to disprove what lies have been laid._

_Where forces of hatred do conspire,_

_Only rain can quench the fire.'"_

"'_Scars of past in tattered hope,_

_Twin Awareness, tight walk rope._

_Light and dark. Blood and fire._

_See the blindness through the mire._'"

"_Only when Light doth pass,_

_Through the blindness rain does mass_

_Darkness wary eye does see,_

_Untainted victory.'"_

Thralk chuckled as Yawna's eyes widened further. At first he thought the Tauren weak. How could this young calf be prophesized as his greatest weakness? How could they say she could possibly be his downfall. But the prophecy promised him a victory, and he would get it.

But then Yawna stood. It was labored, but a step above what Thralk had anticipated. He noted with displeasure suddenly that his men had not unarmed her. She still had her bone axe and gun, though he could think of no reason why but haste.

"You will never win Thralk, for you will never be happy," Yawna spoke in a hoarse voice, "I know your anger now. The same anger that you felt when you slayed Two-Moons and When the Demon Wolf attacks. You control it, don't you Thralk. It calls to your whim."

Thralk blinked in surprise, the light of his eyes briefly shadowed over by a beaten brow when he lowered his head. But when he lifted it again it was nothing but triumphant glare that met Yawna's eyes and she stirred slightly.

"You are so very clever Yawna. Maybe Two-Moons was not wrong after all when he took you under his tender wing. But mark my words Yawna, I will win as the prophecy foretold. And I will make a mockery of every thing that you stand for." With that Thralk spread his arms slowly, smiling as the small undead children surrounding him drew away in fear.

"Witness it now." Thralk oozed with pleasure.

* * *

Var'Jun's breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the mount. It was a traditional troll mount, the long lizard-like creature blinking at him with an inquisitive eye. Var'Jun flexed his fingers. He was not skilled enough or trained to use the mount, but he knew it had been sent by Mitka and Gar'Ihn and somehow it gave him power.

Var'Jun was soon learned by the creature. After falling off three times he thought it faster if he run, but soon he was able to sit on it's back without falling to the ground. The lizard had extreme speeds too and Var'Jun could feel the miles slipping under his feet. He would reach north by nightfall.

After he had traveled for hours Var'Jun slipped rather stiffly off the back of the mount. The undead camp lay before him, the evidence of struggle past in the dirt. The warrior found a strip of cloth that belonged to Gwyneth in the dirt, and a small speck of blood he was sure smelt like Kat's. This sent shivers up his spine and made him look at the camp with a new loathing.

He patted his mount fondly, giving it a little smack to send it on it's way. There would be bloodshed, he knew it.

At first the warrior was sneaky. He slinked in between camps and tents, his long legs and arms shivering in and out of cracks and crevices to tighten his body into grotesque shapes. But soon it was evident there would be killing, and his first victim was a young undead rouge that shivered and shook when Var'Jun laced his hands around his neck.

"Tell me," Var'Jun hissed, his demand cloaking the sky, "Did they bring any prisoners here? Any prisoners that might have been a tauren, night elf, or some humans?" When the undead shivered and said nothing Var'Jun quickly found a dagger among the folds of the rouge's robes and brought it to it's owner's neck.

"Speak now," Var'Jun hissed, "I promise mercy if it's what I want to hear."

The undead hesitated, looking around him as if suspecting someone else to leap from the shadows. The dagger pressed closer to his neck and the rogue started, choking out his words with a care as his Adam's apple was almost slit by the knife.

"Yes, yes. All those you just stated sir."

"And where were they taken."

The rouge paused again, fear of Thralk dominating him. But the dagger was a more immanent threat and he quickly spilled his information, for it was the same rogue who was Thralk's errand boy.

"The male human is still in the prison. He's going to be used as target practice I think. And- Ow, I'm still talking. And the night elf is chained somewhere else around here. She was- not so close with that thing! She was interrogated by our Lord. The tauren is roaming around here someplace. She was talking to Lord Thralk about the release of the prisoners. I'm not sure how far she got with that though."

"And what of the female human?" Var'Jun asked with a new urgency as the undead paused once more.

"She was taken by a General. Kolkua I think. Thralk always gives him the pretty prisoners though. And it's a shame because Kolkua's so rough with them too."

"What do you mean?" Var'Jun's blood was ice. He felt his heart thunder in his throat, then he pressed the dagger closer and demanded, though the answer was already anticipated.

"You know, he _uses_ them." The undead stiffened at the dagger on his neck, "Kolkua hasn't had a girl for quite some time now. He's an ugly bastard. But once he's done with her she'll probably be passed around a bit more, Thralk sometimes takes his pick, he'll probably with this one. She's a looker. But Kolkua will probably take all the life out of her by the end of it. And anyways- ugh… guh…." The undead's voice gulped off as the dagger slid smoothly across his throat.

"That was not what I wanted to hear." Var'Jun growled at the body as it slid off of him. Something was stirring in his blood, something had had threatened to emerge all day but had been kept at bay. It was what was referred to as the Fury by the trolls that were led by Var'Jun's family's monarchy. The warrior's blood boiled and his eyes clouded over red. The killing would begin.

* * *

Gwyneth was becoming tired. Her paws and limbs ached from sneaking around the camp searching for the original tent she had been captive in. The army was massive, almost like all of the Undercity in the Lordaeron Ruins had come to Thralk's aide. When Gwyn finally found the tent she was shocked by the absence of guards. Then again, they did not expect any chance of escaping. And Gwyneth's slink cheetah body was able to slip through most things doubled with her invisibility.

To Gwyn's surprise only Malchior was inside the tent. The door to Kat's prison was ajar, rough signs of a struggle in the dirt. There was no sign of concern from Malchior however, because he was sound asleep against the rough flap of the sturdy leather tent.

Gwyn growled, her voice quickly changing from a feline snarl to an elfin scowl as her body morphed back into it's usual form. She rapped on the bars of the prison impatiently, her voice filled with a newfound annoyance for the prejudice paladin.

"Get up. Where are Yawna and Kat?"

Malchior came around, blinking the sleep from his eyes and standing stiffly. His weapons have been removed and his armor stolen which made his body and shoulders look even skinnier and rather slight.

"The cow I don't know about. Kat was taken away not even ten minutes ago by some undead though. Really big, ugly fellow with a face only a mother could love. Seemed to be important though."

"You don't sound too concerned." Gwyn remarked with disgust, her hands trying desperately to figure out the combination lock on the prison. After a moment of being frustrated she let magic seep in through her fingers and slowly the padlock began to undo itself. The druidess also noticed though, that Kat's cell was a key lock.

"There was nothing I could do from inside the cell." Malchior shrugged, "And besides, she's rather fiery too, so she should be able to handle herself." He Didn't thank Gwyn for letting him out, nor did he acknowledge the fact that he had not owned up to all his big talk.

"I hope so," Gwyn said softly, the weight of what she had done pressing down onto her like a heavy wet blanket.

* * *

Var'Jun panted quickly, rounding the corner of another tent and deftly sliding his broad sword through the ribs of another undead guard. He was traveling less in stealth now and mostly just silencing all those who could possibly be a threat now. He had slain almost twenty and he hadn't been in the undead camp for more than an hour. But the dead rogue's words were a burden on his heart and it pressed him onwards.

He stopped the next undead, holding the already soiled dagger against his heart and demanding the tent of Kolkua. The general was well known and little liked, and even though Var'Jun was not able to let any live he did kill this new victim with swift and painless wounds for the information he received.

Kolkua's tent was a large affair. It was covered in paintings and murals that depicted blood and battle. The skull of a Tauren was mounted over the doorway and the slight smell of decay hung around the air. There were no guards, for Kolkua feared little. But there was also another reason, for the General like privacy when he was relieving his stress.

Var'Jun ignored the niceties of a surprise attack. He slunk though the shadows and entered the tent, sword flashing and brandished with an angry accuracy. What met the troll's eyes would haunt both his dreams and Kat's, for she was the victim there.

There was Kolkua, his rotting jaws fastened forcefully on Kat's once rosy lips. But now she was pale, her face tear stained and her hands still trying weakly to conjure mage fire, the blue flames flickering and fading weakly. Kolkua was an ugly brute, his red eyes set far back into an ape-like head. He had very square features and curling nails that clung to Kat, one on her shoulder and the other lower than her neck and very discomforting to the poor human. When she saw Var'Jun Kat gave a little whimper, words failing her completely.

With a roar of rage Var'Jun dropped his sword, abandoning the weapon for fear of hitting the priestess. Instead he leaped on Kolkua with an animal-like stance and throwing him to the ground.

"How dare you?" Var'Jun raged, his hands flinging to the dagger at his hip and bringing it above the General's chest, "don't you _ever_ touch her. Ever!" The troll brought the dagger down with slow wrenches that made the undead gurgle blood and clutch the troll's hands weakly. Var'Jun felt the tip enter the heart with a very warm soothing and he chuckled as Kolkua choked and lay still underneath him.

"Var'Jun?" It was Kat's shaky voice that interrupted the red. All Var'Jun could see was the crimson streaks in front of his eyes. He curled his lips, licking a spare trickle of blood off of one of his tusks and turning to the priestess with no reorganization in his bloody orbs.

"Var'Jun?" Kat now sobbed, completely breaking down and kneeling on the ground miserably. She clutched her torn clothes, her eyes once more awash with tears. It was this that brought Var'Jun back from the Fury ad he slowly lent down to her side, taking her in a warm grasp despite the fact the she shivered away at the feeling of touch once again.

"You still got those bandages Kat?" The troll asked weakly, feeling the thin form tremble in his embrace.

* * *

Yawna turned around, watching the children shrink back. She saw the fear in their eyes, the wounds on their bodies, and the slow anger that was slowly consuming their souls.

"Why children Thralk?"

"Because," Thralk said, kicking at the dead body on the floor. He was stepping on it's fingers, smiling every time he heard one crack. "Nothing anger's a town more than finding a dead child in their midst. When I want to summon the Wolf I just murder a child and throw it's body down into town. I attack a human town, I throw the human child in the middle and hate erupts there. They always suspect all their neighbors."

"The Wolf comes to hate then?" Yawna asked, her Awareness pouring through the camp. She was invading all the minds of the soldiers one by one, seeing their thoughts and speaking to them. It took most of her energy, but soon she could coax them into abandonment. She smiled as the rebellion began outside the tent flap and Thralk could not tell.

Thralk shifted slightly as he felt the faint brushing of the Awareness. He saw the faraway look in Yawna's pale hazel eyes and demanded impudently.

"What are you doing?"

"I called to them all. An eighth of your army has just abandoned you Thralk. They will go elsewhere and find peace. Your war is not wanted."

"What?" Thralk raged, his eyes burning once more, " How dare you?" From the folds of his robes Thralk produced a throwing knife. His deadly accuracy was a pain that stuck Yawna's shoulder close to her heart, but she only winced and smiled.

"Poor Thralk. You can find no solace, can you?"

The undead opened his mouth to say something more, but it caught in his throat. He paused as he felt the sun rising outside from what was a very long night. It was the fifth day since he had made plans, and the day of reckoning would begin. He could waste no more time.

"I leave you with a parting gift Yawna." he waved his hands as a beastly chunk of rotting flesh and metal pieces rose form the ground. An Abomination, the very guards of the Undercity with their insides spilling out, stared at Yawna with beady black eyes and a dull wit. Thralk had disappeared without a trace.

The disturbing creature lifted it's axe high and brought it crashing down on the Tauren huntress's head just as Gwyneth dragging Malchior and Var'Jun practically carrying Kat all rallied at the tent flap and stared in horror. The had followed Weary Traveler to where he knew his master was, but there was no way Yawna could have survived the blow.

* * *

Wow, the cliffies! I feel so bad for Kat! She totally did not deserve that, but there is so much more in store for all of them. They still are yet to see the terror. It's a shame really. I created these characters to suffer, overcome, and possibly triumph. Possibly. To get some things straight, Var'Jun is a Prince. All that's going to come up later as well as Mitka and Gar'Ihn. Kat is going to have some of her past come up too, and I'll explain more of Gwyn's predicament and exactly where Malchior came from. More people will end up leaving and some will come back. Just to give you a little hint though, one of the original four, Gwyneth, Kat, Var'Jun, and Yawna will die. I'm not gonna tell you who though! Sorry about the short chapter. I was hacing a bout of writer's block. But don;t worry, verything's better now. New chapter... I dunno if I can say soon. You know I always procrastinate. But I love getting reviews, so not _too_ long fromnow. You'll just have to be patient! 


	11. Complications

Disclaimer: I have slain the great Bristleback Leader earlier in life, traveled to the Barrens where I and my Wind Serpent pet have slain many a great foe and done very many other things, but I still don't own Warcraft.

A/N: Here I am again. I tried to get this chapter out soon, I really did. But then my boyfriend went to Toronto for a week and I spent time with him before hand, and then I had a bit of writers block, and then I was working on some pixel art. Needless to say, I have all these excuses cause I was procrastinating.

To **AzureDragoness**, yes I know I'm very 'ebil.' Tee hee, but yes it is evil that I will eventually kill one of them off. I'm not saying who, and it won't be very soon but I will not really give any warning. Sorry. Shrinking away from death stare now. No smiting!

**Crimson Reaper** you are so fun sometimes. It's great that cliffies kill you because now you must have died more than ten times over! Wow, little ghosty! Anyhow, I did realize that too, Yawna sounds more like a druid than a hunter. But one of the toughest parts of accepting her Awareness is going to be accepting the fact that she can not ever become the full fledged hunter that her mother had wanted her to be. And that's sad. And poor Kat, she has it tough. And me starting troll x human? No way, really? I had no idea. It was a whim of mine…

So now, even though there doesn't seem to be a high demand….. Sorta… Okay maybe…

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Complications

The group froze in horror as the axe came whistling down. Var'Jun thought she looked calm and collected still, her face smiling rather eerily and her eyes drawn up to the face of the disturbing beast.

Yawna had put the small sunset horn band around the horn broken so long ago by the attackers of her village. The horn was chipped and occasionally throbbed with pain, but after Yawna had slid the band around it the pain had stopped. Now it was glowing, the entire orange, red, and yellow fibers in the adornment sending out a warm light.

Yawna smiled soulfully as the light began to gather above her head. Though it all happened in a matter of seconds it seemed to take forever for the light to take on a Tauren shape. It was a huge male with bulky cords of muscle along his arms and a broad chest lamented with gold trinkets that flashed and glittered. The ghostly image faded out at the waist, turning into fine particles of sun mist. The bull was familiar to Yawna, but she knew that Makar, her father, was dead.

The ghost gripped the axe as it came down, bringing it to a grinding halt. Light flared up the handle of the weapon and slowly it was drawn back up, the Abomination was staring ruefully at the floor and it's intestines which already spilled out of his ribs. It seemed ashamed somehow, but the beetle black eyes narrowed and his scythe came swinging about.

The ghostly image of Yawna's father was at the attack now though. His hands were a blur, diving in and out of the already pockmarked flesh of the Abomination. The creature faltered as Yawna stumbled backwards. With a gurgling yell it then fell, it's head falling Short of Yawna's hooves by only a few inches.

Makar bowed to his daughter, a wellspring of paternal wisdom and kindness reflected in his eyes. Yawna sobbed brokenly as the image faded slowly. Her sobs could only be interpreted as 'father' and when his image had finally blown away in the dusty wind and all of the undead children began to whimper again did a small bead the color of sand in full sun fall of the horn band and into Yawna's hand.

Weary Traveler broke the spell that this event seemed to have over the huntress. He barked loudly, his hackles raised to their fullest along his back and neck as the brave old wolf looked outside the tent. Thralk had sent his love for the huntress in the form of armed guards in case of the failure of the Abomination.

"Well, there's only two of those little bead thingies left and I'd hate to waste another," Var'Jun put stoically. He would have been kinder, but he felt that the harshness would have hurt Yawna more. "We really aught to be fleeing right now. He who lives fights another day."

"Or she," Gwyneth put in a voice that sounded half like a growl. Var'Jun looked over, amazed to see a cheetah sitting next to him in the tent. The shock was washed off, however, as Yawna rose from her knees and struggled to look away from the children. They could not be saved now, even the peace loving tauren knew that. Var'Jun (and Gwyn) were right. She would have to live another day.

"Head to the west," Yawna said softly, not questioning how she knew this information, "Thralk is going east to Ratchet and a ship that will take his army to the Undercity where he can find allies."

The group struggled off, Var'Jun, Gwyn, and even Malchior fighting spectacularly. Kat was trailing behind Var'Jun, clinging to his arm which was the only one unoccupied almost impossibly by the insanely broad sword. Yawna stood behind Malchior and Gwyn, her axe drawn but not moving and the gun still swaying at her hip. All around her Yawna could feel death as if took away the spirits of those who could not cling to their mortal bodies. Her mind throbbed with pain and toil but she kept a poker face and continued steadily.

"Hope everyone's in the mood for running," Yawna growled to Weary Traveler and herself.

* * *

"They're moving really fast though. Last time I checked almost all the tents had been packed and begun the move west." Var'Jun remarked, his head tilting back as amber liquid spilled form the bottle he was carrying and into his eager mouth.

The rag-tag group had moved far from the camp, hiding in a dimly lit and shallow cliff in a knoll. It looked like the place a child would claim for themselves, a fort of sorts that occupied childhood old. The group was not long rested, fleeing from the undead at top speed. Luckily they were not pursued, for the day was drawing to a close and they were tired as well as hungry. When the call was sounded for the undeads to move the attackers retreated, misunderstanding the importance of the party.

"We have to head that way too then," Yawna replied, "We'll give them a head start, all we have to do is let them leave first." She turned back to the fire she was feeding, her tail swishing thoughtfully. Var'Jun chuckled to himself as the whoosh it made heightened the flames.

"How did you get all this food Gwyn?" Kat asked softly. She was sitting in between the troll and Malchior, who's protectiveness of her made him sit closer than was comfortable. The priestess was still subdued, her eyes holding a heavy deadness to them. No one but the troll had noticed though, for they were too involved in their own thoughts.

"Cloaked myself," The druid put. She was stretched beside the fire, looking much more cat-like than she had before because of the power that she had now revealed. She was smiling as she hoisted a few dripping slabs of Kodo meat onto a spit she was creating. Yawna grimaced and Gwyn offered her an apologetic look.

"Apples and vegetables too," Yawna remarked, ignoring Malchior's snort and continuing to fan the fire until it was nice and high. "Good of you to think of me. Are you alright Kat?"

The priestess looked up suddenly. Her mind had traveled back to Kolkua and she had started to shiver violently. Var'Jun looked up in alarm, his beer bottle sinking to the floor and his spine straightened until he abandoned his comfortable pose across the rocks and the wall and was able to see the human better.

"Fine, fine," Kat smiled slightly, but it was hollow and everyone could see it.

"Whatever happened after that big undead fellow took you away?" Malchior asked. Though he seemed interested both Gwyn and Var'Jun shivered. Gwyn could remember his uncaring tone in the prison tent. Var'Jun could only remember the scene he had walked in upon, the General's retching jaws fixed forcefully over Kat's.

"He just questioned me." Kat laughed nervously, " Guess I'm not important enough for Thralk's time. Then Var'Jun got him and we left." Yawna could sense the lie as soon as Kat had said it but she did not press the priestess further. Something stirred underneath the lie that felt of immortal pain. Yawna kept quiet.

"That's not what I saw," Var'Jun said quietly, tipping his head back to let the alcohol slide down. In mid sip Kat whacked him soundly on the side of the head causing him to jump and spout beer everywhere.

"You are so drunken right now you have no idea what you're saying." Kat spit harshly, her arms crossing over her chest, "Besides, you were in such a rage that you couldn't even tell I was there until you killed him."

"Horde members fight like bastards, cowards, thieves, and sneaks anyhow," Malchior put in snidely, "I wouldn't have been surprised if he cleaved right through you too." The paladin stood stiffly, stretching and pointedly turning his back on the troll.

"Well apparently Alliance people don't fight at all because you surely didn't defend Kat as you should have." Var'Jun growled, standing to the challenge and breathing angrily on the air that smelt of alcohol and the intoxication the troll often succumbed to.

"At least I didn't scare her half to death. The way she clung on to you makes me think you might be threatening her. What have you done to Katherine?" Malchior's lip curled upwards, his face set into an angry sneer, " I suppose you used her as you pleased, I wouldn't put it past a troll to use a concubine."

All the blood drained from Kat's face and Var'Jun spluttered angrily, unable to even produce words at this new insult. The camp had gone quiet, everyone watching the two battling men with interest and dread.

"Enough you two." Kay cried out, standing with a flurry of swooshing dress layers and clenched fists, " I can't stand it when you fight. Why can't everyone just get along." She stomped off, her form exiting the cave and leaving behind her annoyance with the two of them.

After a few seconds of silence Malchior followed her, protesting and beginning loudly as his armor clanked and clattered over the din of silence.

"You're hiding something for her," Gwyn said softly, her face focused on the fire as she turned the roasting meat. Beside her Yawna nodded in agreement, her hands never stopping their quick chopping of the vegetables and fruits she had confined herself to.

"Nothing," Var'Jun took a long swig of his beer, his smile hidden for the moment as Malchior's voice echoed down the passage. It was followed shortly by Kat's bitter sounding retort and then a small thump.

"I'm not hiding anything," Var'Jun repeated.

"It's no wonder Malchior hates you," Gwyn remarked, "He and you have the same interest in Kat, though I say he's far more open with his and she is made uncomfortable by his showing."

"What do you mean?" Var'Jun demanded, one eyebrow raised in confusion, "Kat and Malchior have known each other for a long time, apparently, and it's no wonder that she would want the strong and eager paladin. I think it's a human thing."

"Don't be foolish," Yawna growled, smiling at Gwyn as the two prepared to close in, " You and Kat obviously are more than friends. She is always watching you, you know."

"To keep me out of trouble," Var'Jun replied, leaning against the stone cave wall in frustration, "You broads just think that every little look is that of amore." Var'Jun tilted his alcohol to the sky, smiling blithely and chuckling to himself. "Silly lovesick girls."

"You're funny when you're drunk." Yawna said, watching the troll with an amused smile. Gwyn just grimaced, shaking her head and sniffing.

"I might be drunk," Var'Jun mused, swigging from the bottle with a sigh of pleasure, "But at least I'm not worrying right now. Sure, I'll suffer in the morning, but it will be worth it all." He laughed darkly before slumping over the rock he was near and watching the entrance to the cave with the eyes of a hawk.

"You ought to show her that you care better. You're not very open like that, but I'll bet you can do it." Yawna chuckled as she saw Var'Jun twitch his ears irritably and sit up again, the beer bottle clutched close in his hand as if her were thinking of something else instead of it.

"Crazy cow."

"No really," Gwyn smiled at the troll as she handed him a thick slab of meat on a wooden palate. Food was not the only supply she had taken from the moving undead camp. Her cloaking skills allowed her to steal food, clothes, camping supplies, and other such things like the beer. It had taken quite a few trips, but Gwyn seemed to be the freshest of all of them apart from the un-sneaky Malchior and was the best choice by far.

"Listen Var'Jun. If you don't tell her someone's going to snatch her up fast. Kat is a good looking woman and she's not going to wait forever. At least make some intimation."

To the trolls honor he did try and look as bored as he could during this speech, taking long drinks from the beer and finding his feet very interesting. But unfortunately for him he was also a rather nervous person when it came to lies and soon the troll was running his pinky down one of his long tusks (a nervous habit of his) and watching his two smiling companions.

"Now, let's say I did have feelings for Kat." Var'Jun began uncertainly, panicking as the two girls gave him a joyous smile, "I said _if_. This is hypothetical here. _If_ I did have feelings for Kat how would you expect them to work. I am a troll and she is a human. We are sworn enemies, lusting for each other's blood."

"He's lusting for something alright." Yawna said with a chuckle as she watched Var'Jun wistfully look towards the door. The troll heard, turning to sneer at his tauren friend and wave her comment away with his bottle.

"I think Kat could look past your being a troll. Don't make up excuses." Gwyn snorted, her eyes rolling as she watched the troll turn his back to them and continue to watch the doorway in a sulky mood.

After a moment he rose, stretching his long arms to the sky. He placed down the empty bottle, smiling as he realized he had consumed it all. Var'Jun always held his alcohol well.

"I need air, I'm going to end up getting dizzy." Ignoring Gwyn's and Yawna's protests of behaving and looking for fights the troll exited the cave, his mouth twitching into a smile as he heard Weary Traveler rise to follow him under the huntress's whim. Yawna would not allow any misbehaving around her.

"I'm going to avoid them. I don't want to see Malchior anymore than I always despise doing so." he called back into the cave, half expecting Weary Traveler to give his trademark laugh. When he did not the troll hefted his heavy sword from it's sheath and onto his shoulder. Night was a blanket over Mulgore.

* * *

"Tell me what happened." Malchior repeated, his hands trying to choke the life out of the air in his frustration. It only made Kat step further away, adamantly shaking her head and responding with the same thing over and over again.

"Nothing happened."

"You are not helping. I'm here for you Katherine. Please talk to me." Malchior sighed, drawing the priestess close to him. He didn't seem to notice how this made her shake and stiffen, thoughts of Kolkua flashing back through her head like ice and fire. Weakly she tried to push out of his hug, the same limb-freezing and powerless feeling returning.

"Don't Malchior," Kat protested, looking around her as if she was searching for someone, "Please, not here. I-I-"

"Nonsense," Malchior had pushed his face quite close now, sending further images to Kat's brain that made her breath stopped. She choked for a moment, her mind reeling and waiting for undead claws to dig through her shirt and sleeves and grasp her hard. Even though Malchior was softer he still had a strength to his grasp as a paladin and she could feel his hot breath on her lips.

The space between the closed and terror seized Kat. She was not herself, unable to push him away, to hate or enjoy it, but only to feel an immense pain stemming from her mind and heart and continuing till one small tear slipped from the corner of her eye and went unnoticed down her cheek.

* * *

Var'Jun snorted, kicking a rock in his path. His mind was back at camp, recalling the conversation that had taken place earlier. He wanted to admit anything so bad, that he didn't feel for Kat or that he did. But the poor warrior was so confused.

"_She's a human Var'Jun,"_ The troll thought to himself, "_Get a hold of yourself. You don't feel that way. You _don't. _Say it out loud. Make it true."_ The troll opened his mouth, determined to say the words. But he found with displeasure he could not.

"_Why can't I be definite on this?"_

It was then that Var'Jun heard Kat's pleading. He heard Malchior's name in the sentence in which the tone was so pleading and his blood froze. It was the same tone that she had used when she had said Var'Jun's name after what Kolkua had done to her. The same desperate plea that had Var'Jun's heart in it's hands. The troll drew his sword and followed the sound.

What he saw were two figures. At first her thought it was one large one because they were so close, but he could distinguish Malchior's armor (what he had left of it) and Kat's layered dress. The troll's heart pricked, first with pins and needles and then with a great wave of pain that hit him like a three ton weight. Malchior and Kat were kissing.

"_Why does this hurt me?"_ The troll asked himself taking a staggering step backwards, "_This shouldn't bother me at all. I should be happy, the priestess is out of my hair."_

It was then, as if the moon had conspired to hurt him or heal him, did a cloud leave the face of the great lunar viewer and light up the scene. He shivered when noticing how close they were, but with a double take did he notice a pearly illuminated tear slide down Kat's face.

"_Crying." _Even though Var'Jun was half drunken he could still understand what was going on. That was not what Kat wanted, she was once again being unwittingly forced. What the troll did not register was that while Kolkua had known what he was doing was rape Malchior had no idea. He had taken her desperate clinging for a passionate grasp and had not even noticed that she was stricken. The troll began to enter another Fury, but drunken he could only manage half.

"Malchior!" he roared, ignoring the fact that Weary Traveler had turned tail and ran back to his mistress to warn her. All his Fury stuck mind could register was the fact that Malchior was now doing something that he should not be allowed to do.

The paladin separated from the priestess, looking up in surprise and anger as the troll approached. His face contorted into a grimace and he growled angrily though he put no words to it.

Kat saw Var'Jun too, and half of her was immensely grateful for the troll to once again be there. But the other half of her saw the danger in the situation that had just happened and she immediately woke from her shocked and wounded state to begin to solve the problem.

"Var'Jun don't-"

"I saw Kat. You were crying. I won't let it happen again. _I won't_! I've let it happen once because I wasn't there to watch out for you, and now I'm here and it won't go on." The troll stepped in between the paladin and priestess, his tusks pushed up into Malchior's face.

"What are you talking about, you crazy beast?" Malchior narrowed his eyes, "I know! You were jealous, weren't you. You thought to interrupt us. I had no idea you trolls really do use concubine when I said that. Sick animals." The paladin drew his sword too, his eyes glinting fiercely.

Kat could never really be sure who struck the first blow. All she knew was that at one moment her brain was unable to process what was happening and the next the sound of steel on steel brought her crashing out of it.

Whomever struck the first blow would remain hidden because now the two were head on sword fighting. Malchior's quick saber darted around Var'Jun while the troll worked with his heavy broad sword to push it back, able to try and get a few good shots in himself. The two looked like deadly dancers, their weapons blurs of pale moonlight and red fury. The clouds cloaked the moon and all through it Kat began to slowly see the horror of what was born of the Alliance and Horde's hatred.

"Stop it, stop!" The woman screamed, trying to throw herself over Malchior, who was closest to her. The paladin only pushed her roughly away, battle lust taken over. She landed a few feet spanned from the two and cried out softly as her back struck a sharp rock.

This enraged the troll further and he battled with more of a fury, the alcohol consumed earlier making it even harder for him to regain control. The two had been battling back and forth when Var'Jun backed Malchior into a ditch and the paladin fell into a sitting position.

Breathing raggedly Var'Jun thrust his sword to the hated knight's neck, his teeth grinding and his lips curling. He had only to push a little further, the sharp blade driving into Malchior's neck and ending the anger that the troll felt. But when he looked over at Kat he saw it in her eyes. If Var'Jun killed Malchior than the priestess would never forgive him.

"Consider yourself warned." Var'Jun snarled dangerously, his teeth bared. He lowered his sword, preparing to turn around. The knight seemed defeated and there was no reason for the prince to continue the battle.

But the second that Var'Jun's sword was lowered Malchior pushed his own saber into the ground and levered himself up swiftly. His gauntleted hand grasped the troll warrior's neck with an unyielding strength. The troll gasped as the strength became further and the grip tightened and sucked the life from him slowly.

"I showed- gah! I showed you mec- m- mercy!" Var'Jun struggled out. He heard Kat yell and saw her try and struggle down Malchior's arm, but the knight was adamant. He smiled as the grip tightened further.

"And that's your weakness, troll. You showed mercy when you shouldn't have." Malchior ignored Kat's frantic pleas and began to lift Var'Jun off the ground. The troll was taller, but his head was thrust backwards and he felt his feet drag along the prairie grass.

Var'Jun was going light headed. He felt his mind begin to recede back to where it could hide from the world in this dark and welcoming area. He could stay there forever and never have to worry about what would happen to Azeroth and Yawna and Gwyn and even Kat.

In the recesses of Var'Jun's mind he heard a gun shot. It made Malchior startle and drop the troll where he slumped across the prairie. Kat was at his side imminently, he heard her sobbing and trying to figure out if he had lived or not.

"Var'Jun, please say you're alright. Please." Var'Jun felt her warm hands rast on his face and he sighed softly to himself.

"Get me some beer," The troll growled, opening one yellow eye and watching Kat go from desperate to slightly annoyed and amused and relieved. It was an interesting combination.

Gwyn struggled with the gun, smiling as her ability to use guns was proven just as good as she thought it would be. Horrible. Druids were never meant to use guns, but Yawna had absolutely refused to.

The bullet was fired only into the sky, but it had the right effect. Everyone stopped and listened.

"Go back to camp, you sinners." Yawna roared, trying her best to appear bigger. It worked when she happened to be the largest and most powerful there.

* * *

The night had settled. Malchior and Var'Jun were kept a large distance apart and Gwyn and Yawna had taken first watch. The two were debating, their voices smooth and silken on the night air.

"Where are we going?" Gwyn asked, watching her tauren friend as she surveyed the gun. The tauren had refused to touch it and after it had been shot she had seen her quaking violently behind her.

"The Undercity." Yawna replied, "If anyone can stop Thralk it's the undead themselves. If they don't want this war then they won't want him in it because that would give people reason to attack all undead instead of only Thralk. They have to power to stop him."

"How do you suppose we get there, oh Tauren of infinite wisdom?" Gwyn smiled as the tauren pretended to take on the role and bowed her head with utmost knowledge.

"Through Thunderbluff, young child of the forest." she replied, "On the backs of many Wind Riders."

"And how do you suppose we make it through Thunderbluff and the Wind Riders with three Alliance members, oh spirit of ancient intelligence? And with no money as well."

"Because we are messengers from Bloodhoof Village and we come bearing captives to the Undercity, oh youthful elf."

"Elune help us."

* * *

Well that's it for now. The next chapter reminds me of a swashbuckling adventure of old, but it won't be out for a little while. Much to do, much to do, no procrastination now! 


	12. Crota

Disclaimer: Hm, nope, fresh outta Warcrafts. I have a few cats if you're interested though.

A/N: Okay, let us start by saying that I still have no idea what I'm going to do about all the predicaments this story has run me into. So many loose ends to tie. But so fun! It's great to get feedback too, do you realize that I've almost hit forty reviews. Believe it or not, this is big for me! Anyhoo, here's some reader review replies! R!

**Crimson Reaper**, yah it does give me some type of feeling of romantic interest. Today was me and my boyfriends two month marker (ever since Valentine's Day). As for a song fic, I'm not crazy about Usher, so I don't know those songs. The rest of the three are all good choices, though I like Numb. Another good song in Sooner or Later by Breaking Benjamin, and maybe The Clincher by Chevelle. You can find all those on of course yay!

**Azure Dragoness, **no, I'm sorry but the pleasure of killing Malchior is mine alone. If he dies! Oh, plots! And as for being horribly entertained, isn't that a good feeling! I find that being lucid is only a cup of hot chocolate and about 7000 calories away.

**Rhyia**, Thank you! Being loved feels good!

So here is the next chapter, enjoy everyone….

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Crota

Malchior was not in a good mood. He spit and bristled like an angry dog, his hackles raised underneath the armor. He was tied in between Gwyn and Kat, roaring furiously as they were able to pull him along in a chain gang of sorts. The ropes binding were strong and secure, though they were not tied too tight. Everyone had a small dagger stolen from the Undead camp just in case the quick escape was necessary, everyone but Malchior that was. He couldn't be trusted with it because he was now bent of Var'Jun's blood. The two had been ordered not to talk to each other, but the troll was voicing his opinions of the paladin loudly to the druidess and smiling as it sent Malchior further and further into a rant.

"They will never believe you are prisoners." Yawna growled, looking rather awkward because she was trying to stare up at the approaching Thunderbluff while walking. The large plateau had risen it's spine over the horizon earlier that day, shaking sun from it's back and enticing them forwards.

"I can only hope that no one recognizes us." Var'Jun growled to his tauren companion, "If any troll calls out my name I'm worm meat." The warrior sniffed angrily, clutching his head as Malchior began a furious new batch of angry yelling that made his head hurt.

"Please, no yelling. You're making my head feel like a troupe of dwarves are banging hammers on my skull." The troll pressed two fingers to each temple, his intense yellow eyes closed for the moment.

"If you hadn't had all that beer last night then you would be able to stand our voices now." Kat spit, smiling despite herself. She was still shaky though, and her body jumped and flinched every time she was touched.

"I can never stand your voice," Var'Jun taunted ignoring his pained head, "It's always so sweet and concerned. 'Var'Jun, Var'Jun. Please be alive!'"

"Shut up," Kat spat back, blushing slightly and turning her head away from the troll. Unfortunately this lead her face to meet Malchior's angry gaze. She winced, the roped between their wrists tightening.

"You are the one who stopped me from killing him, dear Katherine. You know you could have stopped it here. But now we are prisoners." Malchior turned to look at Gwyn who's face was holding one of great annoyance at the Paladin.

Var'Jun was still shaken, though he feigned total strength. The troll was weakened slightly, and while he had lain asleep that night Malchior had made several more murder attempts. Only through Kat and Gwyn were they able to keep him off, for Yawna was the one tending to the troll.

"Fake prisoners." Yawna reminded them, "Just until we get through to Ratchet. Then we can unhand you and untie you. Ratchet is neutral, you know." The tauren winced as she heard the grinding of Thunderbluff's elevators in the distance. She looked to Gwyn, her mouth tightening. The elf's eyes had a strange far away look, the same look that she had when seeing things through an oracle's eyes.

"Your verdict, Gwyneth?" The tauren asked as Gwyn's eyes cleared back to their glowing light blue color. The elf blinked for a moment before sighing softly.

"Troubled waters ahead, captain."

"I'll keep that in mind." The tauren halted, taking Gwyn's wrist in her hand. It looked like a tight clench, though it really wasn't. The groups performance was about to begin as slowly the elevator of Thunderbluff fell. It was small, but the troupe bunched in and watched as the ground dropped from beneath them. Weary Traveler gave a little whine.

The elevator came to a grinding stop, the quick passage of Yawna and her friends immediately brought the attention of several Tauren guards. They were strong and sturdy, armed to the teeth and armored like tanks. They approached Yawna almost without question thinking her the leader of the group. Var'Jun saw the huntress transform into a hard-eyed captor in the blink of an eye. As a troll passed the warrior's vision he involuntarily tightened the grasp he had taken on Kat's hand (a nicer one in appearance then the fake grasp that Yawna had taken to Gwyn, a captor to captive clutch) as the elevator had risen.

She looked over, aware of the pressure that his body had converted to. Her face was worried, a light shock caressed over her features. She squeezed back, to his surprise, and he was dully aware that Malchior was watching them with a fiery gaze.

"Sorry Kat I-" He began his apology in barely a whisper under his breath, so soft that he could barely hear it himself. But she interrupted him with a warm smile that lasted no more than a breath's length. The troll steadied himself, braced against the predicament that they were in but also the wash of emotions that flooded over his mind.

"_You are the Prince of the exiled trolls."_ Var'Jun reminded himself internally, "_A steel wall against emotion."_

"What do you mean by bringing these humans and the elf into Thunderbluff, young Tauren? Have you gone mad?" the guard demanded. It was not harsh though, more of a simple question than anything else. Yawna smiled back at him.

"They're prisoners from what is now Bloodhoof Village, as you know. We found them lurking around on our border and the Undead representative there demanded that we bring them for questioning in the Undercity." Yawna wrinkled her nose, "Though I doubt questioning is all they'll do."

The guard snorted, his face wrinkling into a grimace. The tauren held little love for the undead. It was only through the orcs that they were really connected to the Horde, but the undead's way of doing things often sickened the peaceful Tauren.

"You have that right." The second warrior responded, pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket. He dipped his finger into a pouch at his belt, the large digit coming out died with purple berry juice. He marked the paper with his finger print, offering it to the young tauren.

"If you take this to the Wind Rider Master then I'm sure he'll lend you some of the fastest Wind Riders that are reserved for Thunderbluff. They'll take you straight to Ratchet, those ones, specially trained. Good luck." With that the guards both saluted Var'Jun and Yawna and stomped off.

"Let's get outta here quick," Var'Jun's heavily accented voice cut through the silence that held the group, "This place is swarming with trolls today." He pulled Kat along, Yawna on the other side seemingly struggling to keep Gwyn moving. Malchior was the real help there. He was not acting when he kicked and struggled, calling out curses and angrily dragging himself backwards.

They reached the spiral tower that lead up to the Wind Rider's. At that moment Yawna felt everything give way. Her Awareness buzzed out of control suddenly, gathering up all the emotions of the city around her and flinging them into her face. She choked as the Awareness then plucked the fear of her friends, blowing it totally out of proportion and causing her to faint dead away, crashing down onto the ground in front of her.

Abandoning her role Gwyn knelt beside her, the bond cut in an instant by the dagger she had concealed. Kat followed suit, slicing through her and Malchior's bonds and commanding him to stay where he was. The fire she had put into the words kept the paladin, though half of it was the inability to leave the priestess for dead.

"Yawna," the elf shook her tauren companion, trying to figure out what had happened, "Yawna?" The guards from before came galloping over, the flat of a pole arm whipping down upon Gwyn. The night elf cried out, flinching backwards and clutching her arm where a newly forming welt was appearing.

"Treacherous snakes," another tauren hissed, his word coming up to strike Kat. Var'Jun was in between the guards and his friends suddenly, quick reactions to this occurred at once. The guards gaped in astonishment as the troll drew himself to full height, but this was only because he had defended the captives.

But a few trolls around the conflict were gaping for another reason. Without his royal robes of deep scarlet and violet velvet, without the crown that usually graced the heads of royal blood, without the council at his shoulders, and without the body guards that usually followed him Var'Jun was hardly the prince they knew. But drawn up, tall and regal with a murderous glint in his eye, the troll was recognized.

"Prince Var'Jun?" a few small voices asked, the trolls around gathering forward at the sight of their lost leader. Var'Jun closed his eyes, blocking out the sound of their pleading voices. Long ago he had sought to reject the throne, thinking that his mother would always be around to have it, But now he had outgrown his childhood and it was apparent that he could not just give up the throne to someone else.

At the mention of 'Prince' his companions looked at him with a new light. Kat looked rather betrayed, her eyes full of shock and mistrust as she slowly inched away from the troll. Malchior was seething, his thoughts racing. He could have been the one to kill the troll Prince and bring honor to his family, but he was denied this. Gwyn stared at the warrior questioningly and Yawna lifted her head from the ground, newly awakened and surprised.

"Prince?" One of the guards echoed.

Var'Jun nodded slowly, his eyes opening once more. He fished around in his pocket for a moment, a look of great regret crossed over his features. Finally he produced a large ring. It was heavy, a thick golden band decorated with designs of vines and thorns. It was crested with a huge deep green gem that was lined with white veins. He slipped it onto his left ring finger, a sad smile on his face.

"Of course," He said evenly, " Son of Meh'rah who was daughter of the celebrated Vol'jin. The last remaining heir to the throne of the Darkspear Tribe and the Prince who'll someday be King."

"Take them to Cairne." One of the people offered and it was met by a hearty agreement. They were guided at spear point to the second level of Thunderbluff where Yawna (still a bit dizzy) got her first glance of the leader who's name had been whispered over her cradle. Standing before her was Cairne, leader of all the Tauren.

The Tauren Chieftain looked up in surprise as the rag-tag group was lead to him. Var'Jun was still standing in front of the group, mostly concealing Kat and clutching his hand as if the royal ring pained him. Kat herself was still delicate, her arms flinching under a steady grasp that Malchior had put there. Gwyn was cradling her arm watching the guard that had struck her with narrow and angry eyes. Yawna was beside her, a dull and glazy look still left over from the mysterious effects of the Awareness.

"What's the meaning of this?" Cairne asked, taking a few confident steps forward. His leather and mail armor creaked and he made an impressive figure. Yawna bowed her head and began to speak before being interrupted by a guard.

"We welcomed these people into Thunderbluff under the pretense that they were taking captives. But then the tauren here collapsed and the captives were free. They defended her, trying to wake her up and we come to find out that this scrawny excuse for a troll is really the Lost Prince Var'Jun. Or so he claims, he has the Strangle Thorn Ring, but he might have stolen it."

"Stolen?" Var'Jun screeched, his tusks bobbing as he spouted in rage, "I _am_ Var'Jun! I am Meh'rah's son. Ask any troll you see and they'll recognize me, though it might take a while. I'm travel stained, but not totally different." Weary Traveler took up his anger, snarling in agreement.

"Quite," Cairne thundered suddenly, his eyes fixed on Yawna, "I will take them into my tent to talk. But you must leave." He pointed to the guards and ignored their pleads. "I can handle myself, but I must talk with them in private. I expect to hear from you in about an hour or so." He nodded to the group, welcoming them in and smiling warmly.

Cairne's tent was furnished richly with pelts and cushy pillows to sit upon. There was a small fire heating it and scenting the area with hickory smoke. As the group took their seats Cairne motioned to a young female troll who was sitting to the side of the tent.

"This is Crota." Cairne motioned to the troll and she nodded, smiling at the group. She had long red hair that was tied messily at the back of her head. Wearing long leather robes and a clingy leather shirt she was a pretty troll. For a moment she seemed stunned, then gave a small cry of shock.

"Crota?" Var'Jun echoed with disbelief in his voice. A moment later the female troll had leaped across the room, almost tackling him to the ground. Her arms were flung around his neck and she pressed her face to his shocked one, a warm smile on her lips and sheer joy in her eyes.

Beside her Yawna felt Kat seethe. If it was possible she felt that the priestess might have burst into flames. Yawna watched the female human clench her fists and bar her teeth.

From Var'Jun she only got surprise and a slight recognizing of the troll Crota. He paused as she didn't let go, her soft voice whispering nonsense into his shoulder. When she finally realized that he was stiff and confused she looked up.

" You don't recognize me Var'Jun?" She demanded, tears welling up in her eyes. She clutched onto his tunic, her fingers closed on the cloth in a vice-like grip.

"I do Crota but…" Var'Jun faltered, breathing raggedly as if he were battling with something internally before hissing, "But you died."

"No, I lived!" She said, burying her head once again into Var'Jun's chest, "I lived and I searched for you but you had already gone." Var'Jun seemed to have nothing to say to this, his arms staying rigidly by his side. He cast a frantic look around, first one pleading Yawna and then something that was more apologetic to Kat.

"That's quite enough Crota." Cairne said firmly but not unkindly, "Let them take their seats and listen. I need to talk to them, for I fear the worst has happened."

The group took their seats. Kat sat as far away from Var'Jun as possible, the troll looking very melancholy as Crota sat down, practically on top of him. Yawna shook her head, watching Malchior take advantage of the situation and move closer to Kat.

"Now," Cairne began watching Yawna closely, "I want to know why you, young tauren, are wearing the horn band of Makar."

Yawna blinked as she heard her father's name mentioned. Cairne was watching her with an interest, as if he had known her father. But Yawna had never heard anything about her father being powerful or special, only from what her mother said of him as a loving husband and protective father.

"I am his daughter," Yawna replied, "The calf of Kiel and Makar." She felt his surprise in her Awareness, then a genuine interest of herself. Yawna practically blushed under the look of the powerful tauren leader. To even be spoken to by him was a great honor.

"Really," Cairne asked, a far away look reaching his eyes, " And how is your mother?"

"Dead." Yawna replied simply, as if she were talking about the weather. Cairne's jaw would have dropped if he were not so refined. He shook his head in surprise, sighing softly.

"Must have been in the recent burning," the leader commented softly, "My brother only recently sent me word, for only recently was anyone from that area able to walk here. I was not aware that Makar and Kiel had a child, though Two-Moons hinted on it once or twice."

"He's dead too," Yawna replied heavily, "Slaughtered by a new menace. I'm sure you know of Thralk? The shaman who leads the undead. He's hell bent on whipping everyone out. I'd mount extra defenses if I were you."

Cairne nodded, "I have already done so. I'm sorry for your losses, young tauren." He then turned to Var'Jun, his face now stern and reprimanding. "You know, you have caused a lot of trouble. Apparently Crota recognizes you as the real Lost Prince, but what right have you to disappear. Your mother was frantic, contacting my brother and I in search of you for two years now. She lost hope, and has now died a lost soul like you might have died a Lost Prince. How foolish of you."

Var'Jun bowed his head, staring at the floor. He said nothing in his own defense, instead choosing to remain awkwardly silent.

"She would have fought harder if you were guarantied alive," Cairne added salt to the wound before addressing Gwyn, "I feel badly at how my guards have treated you. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well," Gwyn started uncertainly, "There might be one thing. Could you get us straight flight paths to Ratchet?"

"Easily." Cairne said, smiling widely.

* * *

Not more than an hour later the group had been re-supplied and well stocked for anything that might be in their way, ready to go as soon as everything was packed. Spirits should have been high, but instead they were depressingly low and very tense. Crota had followed them, clinging onto Var'Jun all the way. Only Malchior was in a fair mood.

"You can't come Crota." Var'Jun repeated, looking away from the stare that gave him guilt. Crota was begged once more, clinging to his shirt in a child-like manner and watching him with a wet look.

"Why not Prince?" she demanded.

"Because," Var'Jun had reached patience end, "I can't be responsible for you. I won't have another life to be added to my responsibility and frankly Crota, I don't think I could stand being called Prince all day."

The group politely ignored their argument, though Yawna noticed that Kat couldn't help but look over every so often to see what was going on. She was in a vile mood, lashing out at those who spoke to her, especially Var'Jun.

"You will come back for me then," Crota put, "After your mission is secured. But believe me Prince, you will not be alone. I _will_ be following you, whether in your sight or not." With that she pulled him down to her level, standing on her tip toes and meeting his lips with hers.

Kat dropped the dress she had been packing for herself, her fists clenched. Yawna felt a wave of jealousy originate from her and wash out over everything around. The priestess tightened her teeth and picked up the article of clothing, turning her back on the intertwined couple.

Var'Jun pulled away, his eyes blank. "Go back to Cairne." he commanded and when the female troll faltered and began to reply in her whining and conniving tone he adopted and angrier tone, "I am your Prince and that was an order. Cairne has use for you and I'm sure he'd be mad if I took you away. Now go!" Whether it was the fact that it was a royal order or that Var'Jun was actually acting like the Prince she wanted him to be she finally left.

When she was out of sight Var'Jun turned slowly to wall beside him and calmly began to knock his head on the wooden beam. Yawna would have laughed if the situation was funnier, but there was really no way it could have been any less funny than if Var'Jun had claimed Crota right there on the stable floor.

"I am going to check on the Wind Riders." Yawna stated simply, walking out of the hallway. She looked back, motioning at Gwyn and Malchior.

"I'll help you," Gwyn hefted some backs onto her pack, "There's a lot of stuff here."

When Malchior did nothing Yawna clenched his arm and wrenched him along. "C'mon Malchior. We need someone strong to help us."

Var'Jun cursed internally as the girls left him alone with Kat. She was furious, he could see that by the way she packed her clothes like a mad woman. Her breath could be heard hissing angrily across the room. He banged his head on the beam again.

"Oh stop beating yourself up," Kat dripped venom, "I'm sure she'll lay you later if you come back. You Don't have to worry, Prince."

"_Damned broads."_ Var'Jun cursed Gwyn and Yawna again before approaching the priestess.

"Kat," He began softly, stepping beside her and handing her a package from her pile, "Crota and I were old friends, but I never had that kind of interest in her and-"

"Shut up," Kat said softly, then raised her voice, "Shut up. I really can't trust you at all, can I?" She looked up at him and he saw a fire burning in her eyes that he had not seen there before. She was so angry that he had to take a step backwards. With a sigh he handed her another light package.

She snarled, snatching it from him. "Those are my personal garments you jerk. Lecherous troll, you're always causing trouble."

"What?"

"You heard me. First you run off, looking for trouble. Then you come back and save me and just when I think you might actually plan on staying with us then you go and find _her_ and now I suppose you'll leave again. Won't you?"

"No!" It was Var'Jun's turn to yell back, "I told her to go away, didn't I. That's not what I wanted, for her to kiss me, that's the last thing I wanted. I would rather have Malchior kiss me full on the mouth than that." Var'Jun made a face at the prospect, but continued, "Have a little more faith in me."

"How can I?" Kat demanded, "You just seem to change all the time. And I cant… I can't." She fumbled, her mouth unable to form the words she wanted to say. Finally she put, "I can't handle you leaving again."

The troll paused. He was the Prince of The Darkspear Tribe, and as soon as he married he would become King and his bride Queen. Their child would be the next ruler. Everything depended on him.

Without another thought the troll enveloped the human in a warm embrace. His arms circled her, leaving no room for escape. Kat was so startled that she once again dropped what she was packing, though this time she wasn't so angry. At first Var'Jun thought she might throw him off, but instead she brought her arms up around him.

For a few blissful moments the two were peaceful, warm in each other's arms and comfortable. Kat tilted her head up to Var'Jun, staring thoughtfully into his intense yellow eyes. She leaned closer unconsciously only to be interrupted by Malchior's voice.

"Are you ready yet, Katherine dear?" he demanded, his long voice trialing down the corridor.

The two separated swiftly, blushing and staring at their feet. Kat yelled that she was coming, trying to make up for time by packing her garments faster.

"Ahem." Var'Jun handed her another package, smiling saucily and starting to open it slowly, "Is this another package of your 'personal garments?' Really hope so because-"

"You lech!" Kat screeched, batting his head with a book she had been storing away and driving him off, "Next time I'm just going to let Malchior go full force on you!"

* * *

A few minutes later the party was seated atop the massive leonine Wind Riders, their scorpion tales curled over their backs. Var'Jun was sharing one with Kat, Gwyn with Yawna, and Malchior by himself. He had been offered the one with Kat first, but because of his heavy armor could only ride alone. It was to his great distaste, but he could only comply.

"I hope no one gets motion sickness," Yawna chuckled as se strapped Weary Traveler down to the back of their mount. "Ratchet is a long ride from here."

* * *

Yay! That was a pretty long chapter. Poor Kat and Var'Jun, they have such a complicated relationship. Hopefully I will soon do some fanart on them (maybe post it on the Warcraft site?) and then you can see what they really look like. And wow, maybe I actually did start the whole troll x human thing. I noticed one today that I hadn't before. Oh well, a good thing I suppose. You can never have enough romantically-inclined fan fiction. 


	13. An Ocean and a Half

Disclaimer: WARCRAFT! NOT! MINE!….. X1000

A/N: Well, I see that everyone enjoyed my last chapter. I felt sort of fuzzy inside that day. Feeling fuzzy as of late anyhow. Isn't that strange? But that means more romance for you guys. I'm thinking about changing the story to a tragedy/romance. Don't be surprised if I do. :_Changes it_:

**Crimson Reaper **you make me laugh. It's always funny to see you type my name because I do a double take like, 'WTF, where did she learn my name? Wait, oh yah, it's in my profile.' I read your profile too. :_huggles you_: I'm glad you like Raincaller so much! Geeze, you people all have something against Malchior. Sheesh:points to **Azure Dragoness**: All of you have a thing against Malchior! And do you know what I have to say to that?

Perfect.

And no, I'm sorry but neither you or your scorpid can kill Malchior though the thought is tempting. You see, the problem with this is _:stops, goes slack eyed and thinks wonderfully of Malchior mauled by a scorpid: _No, you just can't. The problem is I want to do it!

**Kyn**, yes they finally met Cairne. He was fun to write for. Heh, heh giant tauren guys….

Okay now then!

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: An Ocean and a Half

The land was a sea of grass, the hills of Mulgore rolling beneath flapping wings. Slowly it turned to the red-brown, rusty hued soil of the barrens. Plainstriders squawked and squabbled over small nuts and seeds, the roaring of a high mane lion carrying up though the air.

"It's beautiful." Kat breathed, leaning over the edge of the Wind Rider. She was sitting astride it with both legs facing out, her dress flapping over Var'Jun's legs. He was surprisingly silent for a while, a brooding and thoughtful look over his face.

"Don't fall," the troll chided the priestess as the Wind Rider hit a patch of bumpy wind and made her lose her hold for a moment. He couldn't help but smile at the sour expression on Malchior's face.

"It's dry," Gwyn remarked sadly, "I could never stay here. A night elf needs the cool waters of a river and the dark shade of a tree." The elf shook her head, "Then again, what would I know. The caravan hardly ever traveled in the Night Elf lands. They might never again."

Yawna patted her companion on the back with a heavy three-fingered hand. She smiled comfortingly, looking down on the Barrens. "You might think that, but here is one of the places that tauren feel closest to our goddess, the Earthmother. Tauren see the raw beauty of the land that is kept pristine."

"You barbarians have religions?" Malchior spit angrily. He seemed to be feeling very spiteful as of late, "Do you sacrifice virgins or children?"

Kat looked as if she was about to say something but another gust of bumpy air made her stop. Instead Var'Jun, who had doubled over and his face flushed and pallid, looked up with an impatient glint in his orange-yellow eyes.

"Quiet tin man or I'll carve you open." He snorted, gritting his teeth.

"Should have warned us you get air sick Var'Jun." Yawna shook her head, "They have herbs for that." She smiled as the troll grumbled a reply in orchish. Malchior looked more confused than the rest of them, but only Yawna understood the discreet word he had used (not something usually taught to those trying to learn the language).

"Keep steady," Kat placed an arm around the troll's shoulders as he wavered slightly. "Don't want you falling." The priestess's voice was smoother than usual, a secret smile playing across her lips. Var'Jun blinked, a surprised look crossing his eyes before he settled down, still clutching his stomach but looking far more serene.

Malchior snorted, an ugly look on his square jaw. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, gripping it tightly as if it were Var'Jun's throat. The troll didn't notice, his eyes now focusing down on to where Kat's flowing dress was flapping in the wind over his knees.

Gwyn leaned over to his into one of Yawna's huge ears. "I would have given anything to be a fly on the wall for their conversation earlier." The tauren nodded back at her, watching the two from the corner of her eye. Her Awareness was filtering through their thought, peace and comfort surrounding them. The angry red aura of Malchior made the tauren feel rather sick.

"I think we're close to Ratchet." Yawna remarked, looking ahead. The land dipped, a small entrance in between the two large land rises. Ratchet was full of large, two story buildings with small doors that could barely fit their tauren neighbors. There were boats docked in it's prosperous bay, small emerald green goblins working the ropes. They called wares to a medley of Horde and Alliance members in high pitched, grating voices that demanded attention.

The Wind Riders landed lightly, a sole dwarf hurrying forwards to meet them. Var'Jun looked surprised for a moment, his air sickness hindering him slightly as he reached to the hilt of the sword on his back. But the dwarf waved genially, his smile stretched over his ruddy face.

"Dun' worry," he called in a roguish voice, his hands closing on the large leather collar that circled the neck of Yawna's mount. He crooned to the beast shortly before winking at the group. "Cairne told me you were comin'. I'm one of his contacts, how did you think they bred such big Wind Riders without the aid of some of the finest Stormhammer griffon queens, eh?"

The dwarf left little room to talk, but his laughter was infectious and the small company settled. Malchior was still seething though, his face holding shock and disbelief.

"What do you mean, 'Cairne's contact?' Do you mean to tell me that there are Alliance members in league with that wind bag?" He slipped off the Wind Rider looking as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

"O' course." The dwarf narrowed his eyes, "And don't you be insultin' Cairne in front o' me. That tauren's got the right idea of how we should be gettin' along. No one can argue wi' that."

The packs were quickly pulled from the Wind Riders, their joyful dwarf acquaintance hurrying them along. He introduced himself as Copperbeard before hurrying them along in taking their supplies. The ship was coming soon and the next wouldn't come for a while.

"Cairne has some suspicions that Thralk is sendin' some assassins after you guys, so be on the look out. Oop, there's the ship. Hurry up you all, wouldn't want to keep a goblin waiting. You know their motto, time is money friends. Now git' and have a safe trip."

They barely had time to wave goodbye to the cheerful Copperbeard before being shooed of to the ship. It was a large, worn affair with huge oaken boards and at least three floors. Already there was a fair amount of different races on it, all staying on one side or another. Ratchet and it's ships might be neutral but the feelings there were definitely not.

A goblin greeted them at the dock. He smiled as he noticed the group as if sensing something from them. Yawna's guess that he was another one of Cairne's contacts was right, for he handed them a slip of paper and nodded.

"Making a special trip for you." he chuckled, "Rooms downstairs. Cairne gave me a lot of money for it, but you're going straight to the shores near the Undercity." He winked, motioning them on.

"Lucky for us." Gwyn remarked, setting down her bag as willing goblin's strode forwards hoping for a tip as they brought them to their rooms. "I would hate to have to walk through that area. I saw the Sepulcher once from a distance. Nasty place that is."

"Even though it's full of cool waters and shady trees, Gwyn." Var'Jun chuckled, his air sickness passed. He smiled at the annoyed look from Gwyneth, the elf rolling her eerie glowing eyes.

"You are a Prince Var'Jun, shouldn't you act more stately?" Kat asked, digging a copper from her pocket and handing it to the eager goblin. As he scampered off Var'Jun gave the priestess a wounded look.

"Just because you all know that now I don't want it to change your attitude. I don't want that title at all though it was forced on me. Ignore it completely, please." The troll threw a bag roughly into his room, the supplies bouncing off the hammock inside and landing on the floor with a muted thump.

"Don't worry Var'Jun." Yawna said, her eyes piercing Malchior because it looked as if he had something nasty to say. When he shut up the huntress continued, though the paladin noticed her wolf was still watching him.

"I don't know about you all, but I'm headed out on deck. I've never been on a ship before, and it's a little stuffy down here anyways." the bulky tauren mistress shimmied her way through the small corridors designed with goblins in mid, her friends following after her.

* * *

The deck was empty of passengers, but the goblins hurried back in forth with high voices on the air and good spirits all around. Already Yawna's team was tired. Riding on the Wind Riders was not much effort, but the same way we would feel after riding on a plane is the way they felt now.

"Meet back for dinner," Yawna said as they went their separate ways to look through the ship. "I need to discuss what we're going to do next."

* * *

Kat watched Var'Jun disappear into the bar. She paused for a moment, the huge ship had almost everything. But it was no wonder Var'Jun had gone there. He always drank away his sorrows. For a moment Kat thought she would follow him, her mind traveling back to where his arms had been warm around her.

"No," she whispered to herself, "I don't know why I would follow him anyways. Lech." She snorted, taking instead the stairs to the middle floor. There were only rooms there though, small ones for third class, second class ones that were still very tight, and the first class ones she and her friends were staying in.

Finding nothing of interest there she went down another level. The air there was silent and still, not a soul touching the pristine silence of the hold. It was full of odd shaped bags, heavy wooden kegs, barrels that smelt of brine and salt, and large crates covered in dirty sheets. To the inquisitive priestess though, it was a gold mine.

She began to inspect the tankards of what appeared to be ale, her eyes taking in the way the wood grained. The human was usually very curious, though lately she had been shut in and reserved. But the hold was too much to turn down and soon she was inspecting everything with a close eye from salty barrels of pickles to a giant carved figure head that usually belonged on a boat but was now resting against the hull.

"Kat," Malchior's voice interrupted her thoughts. She froze for a moment, looking around as if expecting him to leap at her, but then he made his way out from behind a crate. He was smiling, though not in the way one would look at an equal, but more as if Kat were his possession.

"Why are you down here?"

"I was just looking about." Kat replied, turning back to watching the figure head. It was an angel, but rather a troll angel. Malchior regarded this with a scoff before looking back at her.

"He doesn't deserve your pity." Malchior remarked as he placed a heavy, gloved hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him with a puzzled look, her eyebrows knitted together in thought.

"What?"

"The troll," Malchior shifted his hands to both her shoulders to make her face him. She flinched, Kolkua's face leering out through her mind. The woman steadied herself though, staring back into the face of her childhood friend.

"The troll doesn't deserve your pity. He is just a beastly creature and really Kat, I don't see how you tolerate either of our Horde company. But Don't worry, we'll be away from them soon, darling."

"What do you mean?" Kat demanded, fighting down a wave of anger. She clenched her teeth at Malchior's blind prejudice.

"When we get to the main land I've decided we are going away. We'll escape them , I'll fight them off if I have too. Even the elf, she's almost as bad as they are for accepting them." Malchior laughed shortly, "We'll escape and get married Kat, back where we used to live."

"What are you talking about? How can you just expect I-"

Malchior interrupted her. "We'll go back to Stormwind and get married. It was your parents dieing wish, and we are already betrothed through an arranged marriage. My parents are still alive, they'll take us in and-"

"Malchior please," he had pulled the protesting priestess very close to him and once again her mind was reeling, "I.. I'm feeling sick. I have to go on deck. Can we… er… Can we talk about this later?"

Malchior smiled warmly though he seemed a little put out. "Of course my dear." He drew her even closer, giving a quick kiss. It was barely his lips brushing against hers but it set Kat's mind on fire as he let her go. She nodded quickly to him, running off through the crates.

When Kat was sure she was far enough away she leaned heavily against a crate. Her heart burned and she spit on the ground with a curse. A few years ago Kat would have basked in the paladin's love, but now she abhorred it.

"I need to talk to someone." she voiced out loud, her own tones sounding strangely strangled on the still air. Malchior must have left already. "Why do I feel like this? I should love him but I…" She trailed off, giving herself a mental shake.

"_I can't get _him_ out of my head."_ She dismissed the notion, her thoughts pinpointed on finding someone who could help.

* * *

"Have you ever been in love Kat?" The question interrupted the comfortable sleep of the night elf. The druid had been stretched out over a few boards on deck. Preferring the fresh air to the stuffy bottom she had slunk onto the boards and fallen asleep in a patch of sunlight with her spine stretched. It gave her more of a cat-like look than ever though she probably would have been rather peeved if she had known that a few of the men in the barn had noticed other things.

"I suppose you're not talking about Malchior?" Gwyn said , clearing the sleep from her eyes and twirling one elongated tuft of an eyebrow around her finger.

"I suppose not," Kat said after a couple of seconds, "I'm not exactly sure who I'm talking about Gwyn."

"I am," the druid replied shortly, her arms stretching into the air. Kat almost laughed at how the reserved and sometimes even formal elf had abandoned all to fall asleep on deck. "But I think I'll keep that to myself for now. What was it that you asked again?"

"Have you ever been in love," Kat repeated, her cheeks blushing scarlet, "I mean like, ever felt like you were in love with someone."

Gwyn laughed softly before nodding. "Oh yes, I don't think anyone hasn't been. Really, he was a strong and tall and a great rogue." Gwyn shook her head, her smile turned sad, "Died in the Fifth Regiment Raid on Thunderbluff. Big bull of a tauren took him out right before I got there."

"Oh Gwyn." The priestess put a hand on her friends shoulder, "But wait? You don't have a grudge against Yawna or anything?"

"It wasn't Yawna who killed him. I would be surprised if that tauren has ever even stepped on a bug. Besides, how can you have a grudge against Yawna? She's so agreeable." Gwyn shook her head, "I miss him, but he's really here with me so I'm never really alone. Why do you ask?"

"Because Malchior asked… Well he told me I was going to marry him, " Gwyn's face grew stern, "And He said it was my parents dieing wishes, and we already have an arranged marriage but…"

"But that's not what you want."

"I think so," Kat clutched her head, a sigh escaping her lips, "A few years ago I would have leaped for joy if he had asked me. But now I'm not so sure that's what I want. I never remembered him being so prejudice and sort of… forceful."

"If it was your parents wish then that's a very big deal but think of what they would say now. Really, I think they would want to follow your heart, though it sounds rather cliché. Truly, find happiness where you want to find it." Gwyn watched the priestess's face before putting in, "No matter what race he is."

"You-" Kat paused, then shook her head, "I need a drink." She sighed, thanking the elf hastily and walking into the bar with a thoughtful look across her face.

* * *

"I suppose I won't get a sober conversation until we dock." Yawna said, sighing as she watched Var'Jun making more bets. Silver pieces flew in all directions, the suave troll dictating out the highest better. He lifted a mug the size of his head to the sky, bolting down the amber liquid in quick gulps. Men around him cheered.

"I don't suppose so. Malchior's lurking around here too and Kat is somewhere drinking her mind away." Gwyn shook her head, tipping the small glass of fine wine she had to her lips.

"At least she has a reason other than betting," Yawna shook her head at the antics of the troll, "Especially after the conversation you two had earlier. I just hope that those two come to reason. I'd hate to see them both suffer from it."

Kat's voice cut across the bar. Heads turned to see the priestess stumble up to the troll warrior, Var'Jun glancing at her with a worried expression. She was disheveled, smelling heavily of alcohol and looking as if she had been out of civilization for a few days. She smiled at the troll with the glint of intoxication in her eye.

"I'll bet with you Var'Jun." She chuckled, "I bet I can drink one mug of ale faster than you can." She smiled as the crowd around her cheered, the drunken humans of the group circling closer to the attractive priestess in her semi-conscience state. Var'Jun put a protective arm forth against them before hissing to her.

"You don't hold beer good, do you Kat," he asked her, a soft tenderness in his voice. She didn't even realize the situation she was in, smiling goofily at him and raising an already full mug.

"Nope I don't." She laughed loudly and the humans pushed against Var'Jun's arms, "Here's the stakes. You win and I dance with you, and you lose and you don't get to sneak into the packs of my undergarments anymore."

This brought great bouts of laughter and cheers from the surrounding men. The troll blushed furiously and looked across at Yawna and Gwyn for help. They just shrugged, Yawna tilting her head in one direction. The warrior followed her cue and saw Malchior already brandishing his sword.

"Alright then," Var'Jun sighed internally. He couldn't let the priestess wander off by herself. "It's a bet then." The troll raised a similar mug, his smile broadening. Any human who had drank as much beer as he had that night would have been close to death. But Var'Jun was no human.

The race began when one of the surrounding people yelled 'Go!' The troll had a sure advantage, his smile lifted over the corners of the mug. He had a trick in mind, as usual, and as the priestess reached the middle of the mug he leaned over, his spare hand tickling the side of her face.

The woman sputtered, beer flying everywhere. Her mug spilled another quarter of the way, her eyes glaring furiously into him. She sighed as he gulped down his last mouthful, grinning broadly at the crowd and holding out his hand to the wary priestess.

"I cheated," he stated simply, "You win. No more panty chasing for me." He laughed, almost sourly, trying to guide the drunken priestess from the crowd of wolves. She resisted though, turning to face the troll. When she spoke her words were rather slurred but Var'Jun's eyes widened nonetheless.

"But I wanted you to win," she shook her head, her cinnamon hued bun of hair now mussed and a few strands falling across her face, " I wanted you to win so I could dance with you. Please?"

Var'Jun paused, looking weakly to Yawna and Gwyn for help. The two just shrugged though, both winking at the troll. He wrinkled his nose and looked back down at the pleading priestess before a broad grin lit up his face.

"Strike up a fast tune," he called to the nearby bards, "A good fiddle song. Everyone join in!" He clapped his hands, sweeping up the human into his arms and twirling her about the dance floor. A hearty round of cheers followed, the men and women all grabbing each other and following the crazy warrior.

Yawna shook her head. "Would you look at the both of them. I can't believe neither of them have realized it yet." She chuckled. The priestess had her head rested on Var'Jun's chest, her fierce hazel eyes at rest and closed for the moment. The troll had abandoned his post as the great entertainer and was now enveloping the priestess, his hooded eyes conveying rapture.

"Gwyn?" the elf should have responded by now. The tauren turned to see her, her eyes once more clouded over and blank. She was shaking badly, her entire form quivering.

"Troubled waters _now."_ She spit, trying to stand. Yawna stood with her, Weary Traveler beginning to bark and raise his hackles. At that moment a scream made the air stop. One of the delicate women travelers had seen Malchior coming forth, his sword brandished. The music stopped and Var'Jun froze, Kat clinging to his chest now.

"Let go of her." Malchior hissed, his voice carrying a deadly edge. "You listen up now troll. Katherine is _my_ girl, and from here on end I don't want you to even touch her." He poked at the troll with his sword, an attempt to separate the two with the blade dangerously near to his skin.

"No!" Kat yelled, her hand guiding the sword away. She quickly face the troll, pulling him down towards her. "Kiss me, make him shut up." Her words were still slurred, but she closed her eyes, her breath bated.

Var'Jun was frozen. He stared down into the face of the priestess, his eyes holding infinite sadness. With a soft murmur her straightened up.

"You are very drunk Kat. I wouldn't want you to do anything that you'd regret." His words were tender and delicate, but the were laced with a disappointment that showed. He shook his head, facing Malchior, "And as for her being yours, I would give her a chance first. She isn't as helpless as you think."

But Malchior had reached his limit. He strode forwards, the sword clutched in his hands. His eyes were murderous, a slow breathing reaching through the silence and piercing Yawna's ears. His divine hatred was hidden behind his eyes and when he reached up to strike it seemed to the viewers it was as if the world had stopped.

The boat tipped suddenly. It almost capsized, a giant wave crashing into the hull. Candles flickered out as water leaked in through open port holes that the waves tickled. A great stream of it spilled through the entrance way and Yawna felt it hit her hooves with a cold curling. It seemed as if all had gone blind, the darkness penetrating.

A goblin hurried down the stairs. He was shrieking and calling out for the hands to be on deck. He stepped though, his candle illuminating the scene that made Yawna want to faint.

Var'Jun was clutching his side. Between his fingers blood spilled, inky black and dark red in the flickering candle light. It was a gaping wound, one right below his ribs and very deep. Var'Jun was gritting his teeth, one hand clutching Kat's arm in a vice grip.

Kat was as pale as a ghost. She gave a choking sob, kneeling down to take a closer look at the wound. Her priestess's instinct kicked in, soothing blue light creeping through her fingertips and seeking to heal the wound. It was a losing battle.

Malchior was close by as well, the candlelight revealing the troll's blood dripping off his sword and cumulating into a puddle below it. He neither looked sorry nor smug, more surprised by the fact of what had just happened.

"The ship is sinking." a passenger called.

* * *

Wow, I really am so mean. It must be terribly, for you as the readers to not know who will die when, but as I said before there will be one of the original four that will die. And believe me, there are many more chapters and plot twists to come. On the subject of Malchior, he's a jack ass. There's no getting around that. But then again, he will get what he deserves soon. :_evil grin_: 


	14. Violent Waves

Disclaimer: Warcraft is not mine. I wish it were, but if it were I wouldn't write fan fiction and I would definitely have more cash than I have right now.

A/N: Sorry, I've been procrastinating lately. Not only did I have severe writers block for a while but my muse left and I went to an anime convention as well. Anime Boston, if you want to look it up. If I see any pictures of me I'll let you know. But, that's was why I haven't updated in a while. Excuses, excuses, excuses…

So, to all my fans. Thank you so much for the mail **Youkai **and **Algeroth**. You really don't know how fun it was to get those! I look forward to hearing from readers.

So **Reaper **I see that you have suggested me. Kudos to you. I love getting reviews. They make me fuzzy. Geeze:eyes widen: They have a Malchior fan doll? Malchior HAS FANS? Where the hell are they. He'd probably want to know where his groupies are. Thirty-five lives every 24 hours, not bad…

Don't worry **Stormcaller **there's no copyright. Funny how that turned out though, isn't it. And no shin kicking, wouldn't want to harm poor Reaper. And I hope you like the story!

**Algeroth** you like Var'Jun and that makes me happy. I wanted him to be likeable. Malchior is what is wrong with Azeroth, but it's what he thinks is right. In truth, he's no more evil than anyone else… yet…

A 19 pound catfish is not a toy **Azure.** Or at least not a safe one. Oh well. Heh heh, Mr. Psycho, that works very well.

And so without any further sucking up from me…

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Violent Waves

There was immediate panic. For a moment the crowd seemed as one beast, the surging rolls of muscle streaming towards the door. Only five did not move. Yawna had gone blank, her face tightened from the pain felt from Var'Jun. The troll himself was fallen on deck, his hands clutching his side. Wild eyes peaked from the now mated hair, rolling slightly as they glanced about for help. Gwyn was already reacting slowly, Weary Traveler nudging her from momentary shock. Malchior stood very still for a moment before dashing from below deck and making his frantic way to the top.

Kat was the very last to move. She rushed forwards as if broken from a dream. A long, thin wail broke from her mouth and she collapsed on her knees to the side of the troll. He moaned softly, his wild eyes looking up at her. Healing magic, like a piece of the broken summer sky, emitted from the priestesses hands and even though it dulled the pain the wound was very deep.

"Quick," Yawna said suddenly, her hoofs stepping away from the water. "We have to get a boat. It's our only chance." She nodded at her group, the friends reacting quickly. Gwyn sprang to help Kat raise the stricken troll and Yawna slowly drew her axe, the bone head twinkling with an unearthly glow in the dark.

Gwyn ran ahead as soon as Var'Jun was supported on Kat's shoulder. She drew an arrow from the delicate quiver on her back and knocked it, the small sound a deadly one on the screaming air.

The small troupe progressed to the deck. Yawna gave a little gasp, her senses reeling. Already it was filled with the sounds of screaming people as they battled for a position on the life boats. What had been the happy family of crew now battled tooth and nail to enter the life rescuing vessels and the passengers fought with equal malice. The sounds of the crying passengers was death in the air.

"We need a boat." Gwyn said, an edge entering her voice. She drew the bowstring tight, her eyes hardened. The crowd around her stopped as they noticed that she was eyeing the largest of the life boats that was already teeming with people. It was more like a small schooner with two levels and a large sail. A couple of goblins were already hoisting the large wet thing.

Var'Jun moaned in anguish as raindrops leapt from the salty deck and began to eat away at his wound like acid. Kat shushed him softly, crooning an ancient lullaby under her breath and looking up at Yawna with pleading eyes.

"He's wounded so bad." she choked out a sob, "It's my fault…"

Yawna began to say something before she saw Malchior out of the corner of her eye. He was already hacking away at the crowd, sitting in the large life boat with sword brandished. No blood had been shed yet but it wouldn't be long. The tauren fell silent, her mind a mass of ice and fire.

"back away from the boat." the elf demanded loudly. Yawna looked up to see her pulling an arrow taut. She put one foot on the boat, sneering at Malchior before continuing. "I'm commandeering this boat for my group. Any questions?"

This was met by a roar from the crowd. They surged forwards and Gwyn's eyes lit with sparks and fire. She pressed the tip of her arrow to the throat of a goblin who seemed to have insulted her, the short creatures eyes staying fierce.

"I said everyone… back… away." the druidess punctuated her words with pulling back of the string. The crowd continued to surge forth though and at that moment the world seemed to freeze.

Gwyn let loose the arrow.

The tip ripped right through the throat of the goblin, striking him dead in an instant. The crowd stepped back as he fell onto the deck of the sinking ship, the arrow bouncing away behind him. A soft sob escaped Yawna's lips and she began to shuffle away from the mad elf.

"Get on the boat!" Gwyn commanded. Malchior stayed squarely where he was in the middle of the schooner and Kat slowly guided the stricken troll onto the deck. Yawna was the last to come, her eyes blank.

"Load us supplies." Gwyn commanded and the crew only obliged. The crowd had gone silent, fighting over the rest of the boats wordlessly. A small supply of boxes were loaded into the boats and Gwyn pulled a dagger from her belt, slicing through the ropes that held the boat up and as it plunged back into the sea Yawna could see the deadening eyes of the lost people.

"Get ready for a long trip everyone." Gwyn said very wearily.

* * *

Yawna could not speak for a long time. She sat in a broody silence with Malchior, the knight never speaking to the stony air. Rain cascaded down Yawna's one long horn and the broken stub in rivulets. She blinked it from her eyes, her heavy braided, black mane a great weight on her head.

"It wasn't my fault you know." Gwyn growled to herself. She was steadying the tiller with a cold hand, her eyes set dead ahead of her. Apart from a few mumblings she had not wanted to speak of what she had done, her mouth stuck fast.

"I think I'll go check on Kat and Var'Jun." Yawna said wearily. She cast a sidelong glance at Malchior, anger bubbling just underneath her calm. "The wound was… deep at best. And Kat hasn't come up for a long time now."

Malchior nodded dimly. Gwyn sighed.

"Maybe you shouldn't." She said softly, "It was a mortal wound Yawna. I'm not sure how fast acting, but it was close to a lot of his vital organs. Maybe you should leave them alone. It's the last moments they may ever have together."

"Then maybe I should go down and drag her out." Malchior hissed acidly. He tested the edge of his blade, his narrow eyes focused beyond to the waves.

"Shut up or I'll throw you overboard and you'll sink with all that armor on. I have more than half a mind to do so now!" Gwyn let a shaky hand rest on her bow and dagger hilt, her eyes grey and wane. Yawna was trying to block them from her hearing. Her brain muddled.

She shook her head as Malchior retorted with like violence, her hooves guiding her to the entrance to under deck. It had only been a few hours since they had last left the sinking ship and drowning passengers, but the hours with only the sound of rainfall and wave drop were enough. Kat had come up only once to request fresh water before tottering back down the stairs. Yawna wasn't even sure if the troll would make it or not, but she knew he had not passed yet. Her Awareness would have felt that.

The deck was smooth and slippery to the hooves, but the underneath was dry and warm. Yawna heard the crackling of flames as she opened the door. Kat must have lit a fire, but for a moment the tauren could think of nothing but a torrent of flames that piled high into the roof of the boat. Her senses were on end, but her ears also picked up the faint voice of someone cooing another soft lullaby.

Kat was a very good singer. She had a voice like a nightingale, the sound of the bird's last call before daybreak spilt over the land and it closed it's rich mouth from the tunes. Yawna understood common well because of the Awareness but she felt she would have been confused if she was someone like Var'Jun who could only understand exact pronunciation. Yawna did remember the lyrics from somewhere though, a song of a warm hearth and playing children. A song far from here that smelt like ambercorn, like her mother, like the trees. It smelt like the land and the rivers and the lakes and the paths. It smelt of the measures of man and all the lengths that they would take. It smelt like the taurens' problems, predicaments, and triumphs. But most of all, it smelt like a new beginning and a very bad end. Like the first day she had come into the world, and probably the last.

Yawna made her presence known by allowing her hooves to fall heavily on the boards. She slipped down the stairs, finding the human priestess kneeling over Var'Jun's bedside. Whether Kat was truly so involved or she just chose not to notice she made no inkling of realizing Yawna was there.

"How is he?" the huntress questioned, watching Weary Traveler raise his head from the carpet on the bare wooden planks. The wolf had a sad look in his tired old eyes, his tail limply contracted around his toes.

"He's not well." Kat replied at last, "The wound is so deep that all my healing magic does is regain his blood, and he's losing it faster than I can keep it there. The wound won't close either, and he's so feverish."

Yawna stepped up beside the bedside. It was little more than a small wooden cot with quilts piled on top of the wiry troll, making the seven foot tall warrior seem small in comparison. Kat's delicate hand pushed back the mussed purple strands of hair across the warrior's forehead and laid her delicate fingers there.

"He's lost so much fluids but I can't get him to drink." Kat looked up at Yawna, her usually striking green eyes lost in a pool of tears. Her honey-amber hair was pulled back into a bun but like when Yawna had first seen her it was unkempt and strands dripped across her face.

"It's my fault too," Kat buried her face in her spare hand, the other still resting on the trolls head, "Malchior and I should have just left and no one would have gotten hurt. No one! And now Var'Jun's so still. This isn't the way he would have wanted to go Yawna, he would have wanted to die on good solid ground with a sword in his hand and battle in his heart. And I… I don't want him to go at all."

Yawna sighed, petting the priestess on the shoulder with comfort. She pulsed her Awareness out, feeding good thoughts to the priestess.

"And he wouldn't want you to cry." Yawna removed her gloves slowly, her hands creamy and smooth as better milk. She hardly ever wielded her axe, not enough to get the calloused fingers of a weapon's master. Picking up a bowl from the bedside table that was drilled into the floor she handed it to the priestess.

"We have to keep trying."

* * *

A few moments later Yawna had found the first aid kits. She was dragging out herbs, needles and thread, multiple lengths of bandages, and a number of vials whose contents were written in neat scrawl across their faces.

Kat beat the herbs into a pulp, watching the troll's face the whole time. A few times he murmured, his soft mutterings turning into fits of pain that sent his hands clawing. His eyes rolled madly under their lids and the trolls breath heaved. Only Kat's soft touch and cool words could bring him back to being in a peaceful coma.

"Ready?" Kat asked softly. She was the only one to see Var'Jun's wound in the open so far, his shirt lay nearby, his narrow chest gleaming with perspiration. Around his abdomen a swath of ragged bandages were tied. They were stained a deep crimson on the troll's side, blood still pouring from the open wound.

"I couldn't find the regular bandages and I had to get something on it." she sighed, peeling back the bandages. The troll shook, his hands flying out to clutch the wrist of the human priestess. She winced as his long nails dug into her arm, but smiled despite herself.

"He still has reaction time, even when he's sleeping." She gripped the troll's hand, forcing it back down before fully peeling back the rags. Yawna gasped, looking away quickly as the wash of nausea hit her Awareness. She finally looked back after a second, her mind steeled against intrusion.

The wound was a deep one, as stated before, but worse than she had imagined. It was shredded, as it Malchior had hacked away instead of one swift cleave. The ends of muscle didn't meet other ends anywhere, all jumbled like one large ball of knotted string.

"Why is it like that?" Yawna asked, handing her friend the concoction of herbs. The priestess moved over the cut with agile fingertips, the pulpy mass of shredded flowers and contents of the vials soothing the wound.

"Because Malchior often laces his weapons." Kat spit with malice, "I don't think he did the night that they first attacked each other, the night when he almost choked Var'Jun. But I know he does it sometimes and it's a type of herb that eats right through flesh. He never has enough money to buy the really concentrated stuff though, and it's black market material besides that. Diluted, but deadly."

Yawna shook her head, watching the concoction begin to fizz. After most had slipped away the priestess took the thread and needle into her hands and slowly began to stitch the cut closed, her deft hands moving through the process neatly and evenly. Yawna had to look away here, her eyes averting the open flesh.

"Now," Kat pushed up the bells of her sleeves, her hands flexing their joints. She twisted her wrists and began to focus her energy. "As long as he doesn't wake up he'll avoid feeling the pain."

"You're going to kill yourself with all the energy you're losing." Yawna grunted, standing slowly. "And what if he does wake up?" Yawna cocked her head, watching as the human's face went through several emotions. Finally she looked up at the tauren.

"I don't want him to doe." she whispered, "If he wakes up he'll have to stand the pain. But it'll be worse. This deep healing magic brings back mental images as well, and some are best left forgotten."

Kat paused, her hands over the troll's stomach. She looked back up at the tauren. "And with the Awareness it might be enough to kill you."

"Are you asking me to leave?"

Kat blushed furiously, her eyes set on the face of the grimacing troll. "I want talk to him… when he wakes up." Kat closed her eyes, "If he wakes up…"

Yawna nodded. "May the Earthmother be with you then." Yawna slapped her thy, calling the weary wolf on the rug to her before they both exited.

"Let's hope this works." Kat said softly.

* * *

Okay… so this was a shorter chapter than most. But really, I couldn't help but end there. I'm so sorry, don't throw pitch forks at me! I need sleep too, there's just too much going on right now. But I promise you the next chapter will the be the standard eight pages! Hah, hah! And for all those whop were wondering where Malchior and Gwyn have been during this chapter I will tell you. In. The. Rain. Sinners . Oh well, at least Gwyn did it for a good reason. Her explanation and the talk between Var'Jun and Kat (among other things) will be in the next chapter…. Maybe. Who knows? 


	15. Bloom

Disclaimer: Not only is Warcraft not mine, but I think I just lost my stocks in all other major video gaming corporations. Too bad that was only a dream, sigh, then I could play WoW forever because I would have mucho dinero!

A/N: Yes so the last chapter was short. Many apologies to my readers, but I managed to catch my muse. Slinky devil was hiding somewhere in New Jersey. Good thing it's such a sucker for cheese. All it took was one bated trap and…snap! On a more serious note I now know more than ever the destructive power of fire. My aunt's house is burning as I type this. All the more true to me is Yawna's extreme sorrow.

So here's the thanks. **Reaper** see you've gone max. Very good there, you need lots of sugar when you're max though. And well, I suppose I should have slipped that Var'Jun as well slipped into a coma. Probably better that way, he doesn't feel pain then. And too bad for the many Malchior haters Gwyn was too busy steering the ship and brooding over the innocent goblin to kill that annoying pest. And will you direct all Malchior fan doll-selling humans to me. Those son of a guns owe me money!

**Youkai** good to see you back! You must have been reading for quite a while. Do you realize that most of these chapters are eight pages long? Do the math there! As for appreciating Malchior, I happen to not. Well, a bit. He at least provides someone to take my anger on. Yay for troll x human. Fun to write. This chapter's even better. ;)

**Starwolf, **welcome to the circle… more. Believe me, that sadly was a short chapter for what is accomplished, but I must tell you. Writing six chapters without the aid of your muse is pretty hard. The muse is good at spelling errors.

Don't worry **Dragoness** he's safe.. For now. I'm not sure exactly where it's going yet, but you must understand, I'm sneaky like that. Anyhow :grabs catfish and runs: MUWHAHAHAH!

So, that's all there was at this time of writing. Here we go again :tired: Between editing my novel-to-be and this the sleep really likes to run away. More cheese traps in New Jersey I suppose.

P.S: Over fifty reviews:sob: I'm so happy!

Chapter Fifteen: Bloom

"He's not good." Yawna shook her head, watching the elf from the corner of her eye. The rain had thankfully stopped, the sun peeking a weary head from behind the demanding clouds. It was a watery dawn, only the sight of blue stretches of waves below, behind, and in front.

"Well," Gwyn grinded her teeth, "I say something about that canned bastard, but I really can't." She nodded at Malchior who was grimly seated on the bow, his head facing away from them. "After all, he only maimed. I killed that goblin."

Yawna looked away for a moment, the silence hung as if on hooks and dangled in the air between them. Then the tauren looked back, her eyes full of understanding. Not for the first time Gwyn felt guilty.

'_How can she forgive so easily?'_ the druidess wondered t herself.

"I know it was not your intention to let it go that far. But tell me," Yawna paused, scratching Weary Traveler behind the ear before continuing, "What makes us so special that we deserved this boat more than any other passenger there?"

"Yawna you are the future," Gwyn shoved the jamming rod into the rudder so that it faced straight east (judging by the sun). "I hate to tell you, but the prophecy that hangs over your head is not just a cute story. It's our future and what might determine whether we all live or not. Some sacrifices must be made in order to get you out safely."

Yawna paused for a moment as if this thought hadn't occurred to her. But Gwyn could see that she had only confirmed it. The subtle silence lasted for only a fraction of the time that it had taken to say it before Yawna buried her face in her hands.

"I wish this burden would pass from me." she whispered softly.

"Don't we all." Gwyn replied heavily.

* * *

The sound of blue magic blasted through the entire bottom of the boat. It was a strange light that danced off the walls, the healing powers even stretching to a small plant with a bruised stem in the corner. At the center of it all Kat kneeled, her face perspiring and clenching while her mind raced away. Muscle and sinew began to reform around the wound on Var'Jun's side.

Sadly for him the troll awakened.

Var'Jun shot up as if he were on fire. His hands ripped through the bed sheets, claws working quickly into the feathered mattress. It felt as if millions of tiny, flaming splinters were icing through his wound, their fingers stretching, hooking onto flesh, and then ripping back out.

His mouth opened, head swiveling to see Kat almost break the hold that she had on the healing magic. She kept it up though, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry' and pursuing his well being with new found force. The troll might have screamed if his voice was working, but instead he just clutched the shredded sheets as if all hell was tipped upon his head.

Which it was.

The healing magic was a cursed gift. True, soon all the muscle and blood that Var'Jun had lost would be grown back. But altering nature in such a way to bring him back was a terrible pain. Not only that, but the tax it put on Kat was almost enough to kill her as well and she would be totally inept for days afterwards.

Little by little Var'Jun could feel himself coming back. But it was not totally. His strength was weak and flimsy, like an aged oak. He felt his arms god limp at his side instead of coming back down upon the sheets. Kat was breathing so heavily he could hear it over the sounds of sparks flying that the magic made.

With the final sounds of the lightning crackling, a short gasp from Kat, and the whoosh of the down pillow as Var'Jun sank back into it all was still. Kat stood steady for a moment, her form wavering by the bedside. She was still on her knees but she stretched out her legs as she fell forwards across Var'Jun's chest.

When Var'Jun finally gained his breath he decided to talk. This was a huge effort, his jaw working slowly as if everything to him had become slow and lost. But he did manage to choke out words that seemed very appropriate.

"You… are… insane." he gasped. His hands found the shoulders of the fatigued priestess and he shook them feebly. She only gasped in return a moment later following it up with a short chuckle.

"You… you could have d-died you know…" The troll eased himself up into a sitting position. Groaning as his back arched and his spine popped the troll managed to pull himself up and raise the priestess. Her eyes were glistening with tears and for a moment the two were silent as the fire crackled and popped in the background.

Then Kat sprung with what was left of her energy and locked her arms around Var'Jun's neck. She sobbed into his shoulder, saying nothing in particular. The troll paused as if weighing out the options. Finally he returned the embrace, long arms folding around the human's shaking form.

"I thought _you_ were going to die." she growled back, her voice lacking the usual annoyance. The troll paused as his ears trained to the sounds of hooves on the stairs. Considering the fact that hooves could only mean one thing he began to say something. Not in time, of course.

Yawna paused at the doorway, first embarrassment and then a smug smile playing over her face. She chuckled as the priestess jumped up unstably and wavered for a moment before being able to gasp out words. Her cheeks were blushing a deep crimson.

"I need water." she remarked, "And air… too. I'll get you some stuff too Var'Jun." She brushed past Yawna and made her way in a wavering step up the stairs. Yawna felt her shock through the Awareness, but also a terrible tiredness. The spell had taken a lot out of her. Yawna was surprised she could walk.

Var'Jun smiled sheepishly as she approached. The troll still was too tired to even move, his arms limp at his side. But a great, saucy grin was plastered across his face. He nodded at the tauren, winking to her.

"That was very noble of you." Yawna remarked, leaning over to pull the small foot stool underneath her before sitting down. She chuckled at the questioning look on Var'Jun's face.

"What?" he demanded, "Since when am I ever noble?"

"The night Malchior wounded you. Kat would have kissed you right then, but you turned her down. Why? The Awareness felt regret from you. I know you were not to happy saying no."

Var'Jun looked at his hands for a moment before taking a deep sigh. He looked up at the tauren for another moment, his eyes the lost ones of the young boy who had brought the killer into his village. They roved to the wall before he responded.

"I didn't want her to do anything that she would regret." The troll closed his eyes as if remembering, "She was so drunk that night, I'm not even sure if she would remember it now. And if she did kiss me I don't even know if I could keep myself under control any longer. I'm the prince of Trolls Yawna. I'm the one held responsible for the future of al Darkspear trolls and I've already betrayed their trust before. I'm not even sure if she grasps the situation fully. If she did take it that far, would she want to stand beside me before the trolls."

The warrior turned to look at Yawna, a single breath escaping his lips before he whispered softly, "She makes me feel so light."

Yawna nodded, smiling to herself. "You see?" she added rather smugly still, "Gwyn and I tried to tell you that night in the cave but you'd hear none of it. And what does it matter if the trolls don't see it or the humans can't understand. You have each other."

"You lost him, didn't you?" Var'Jun asked softly, watching the tauren's expression change from the superior smile to a look of dark knowledge. "The one you loved died, didn't he Yawna?"

"In the fire, yes." Yawna said softly, "And there's not a day that goes by when I regret never telling him. Then maybe… maybe he would have fought harder or gone the longer distance or even held me. Anything that would have proved it. But know I'll never know."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Yawna replied, angry suddenly, "It wasn't you who killed him, did you? And that's why you have to tell her. To admit to her before she slips away. Because you never know Var'Jun, especially now. You never know when the person you love is going to go away."

"But what of Malchior?" Var'Jun retorted, "What will I do. He's so much more angry than I, and I know I could kill him but how would she look at me? I couldn't just kill her childhood friend in cold blood and expect her to still feel the same way. I wish this burden would pass from me."

"Don't we all." Yawna replied, déjà vu kicking in. She smiled but it was the smile that would have accompanied the death of someone with a suffering ailment. They would be lost to the pain now, and no longer suffering. But they would also be lost to everyone else.

* * *

Gwyn smiled as the small bar of brown sand broke in the distance. It was no more than a centimeter wide on the horizon, a dull gritty color topped with a thin line of green. But the sight of the small line brought joy to the face of the weary druidess. She whooped, laughing is a very un-Gwyn-like way and almost allowing the tiller to tip off course. Finally she jammed the peg in, her calls summoning the rest of the group to the front deck.

Var'Jun, who had been asleep for the past day, was brought quickly from below deck by Kat. The priestess had awoken him and through his bleary, sleepy eyes and strands of hair he chuckled as he saw the strip in the distance.

Yawna smiled and stopped her pet wolf from almost tipping over board. It had turned out that Weary Traveler was a seafaring type of canine and threw his head to the wind whenever the wind billowed in the sails.

"Land," shouted Gwyn with a chuckle, "We've spotted land!"

The only one who still wasn't overjoyed by this was Malchior. He was seated in a brooding state on the side of the boat. He was watching Kat and Var'Jun out of the corner of his eye, only Yawna noticing this.

The two were supporting each other, both Kat and Var'Jun wobbling with their loss of strength. Var'Jun had flung his arms about the priestess's shoulder and even though the two were sick and almost unable to complete most any functions at all Yawna couldn't remember a time when she had seen them look so bright and alive.

* * *

In a few more hours the party had drawn closer to the land. Most spirits were high, the infectious of spring settling over Azeroth and themselves. The slowly skimmed the schooner across the shallow water near shore, the light of the sun filtered through trees and bushes.

"It's Elwynn Forest." Gwyn remarked, joy touching her voice as she gazed fondly at the trees, "I was here once when I was a child. Elwynn Forest…" She steered the boat closer to the chore, entering the light rain of spring blossoms that fell from the trees. They were light pink things that drifted down slowly like lazy helicopters, the exotic perfume tinting the air.

Var'Jun smiled as a few spilled over the heads of his companions. He caught one from the air, a hand still shaky from loss of strength holding it to the human that leaned on his as he did her. She took it with a delicate hand, tucking it into her hair and smiling warmly at the troll.

'Treasure it," Var'Jun remarked, half laughing and half serious, "It may be the last signs of spring you ever see." He caught a few more, plucking their feathers while mumbling to himself and chuckling as they told him what he wanted.

"And Westfall is close by." Gwyn mumbled darkly, "Along with Duskwood. We can always go to Stormwind, but security there is tight and I doubt we could get in like we are."

Malchior's head pricked up at the mention of Stormwind. He looked quickly to Kat as she tried in vain to catch the wily falling blossoms. Her face was alight with joy, her balance still kept by the troll. The paladin's bow darkened, looking quickly to Yawna. He couldn't fathom why, but he feared the peace-loving tauren the most of the group. There was something about her, something held deep below what she had shown to them, a hidden power sleeping and waiting to be awoken.

Gwyn slowly steered the nose of the boat up onto a bank. A few clicks came from the bushes, Murlochs realizing the arrival of the team. They headed back to their camps, ready to report the strangers there. There were too many to fight now, but maybe later.

"Food." Var'Jun stumbled from the boat, his weak legs almost crumpling beneath him, Kat hurrying to catch up with him. "Fresh food," he mumbled, "And water that hasn't been distilled. Cool, clear spring water." Yawna shook her head as the troll's messy purple braid disappeared behind a tree. Kat was close behind, the edge of her dress not long after his braid.

"As long as they go in pairs." Yawna said after a moment, her head shaking. She smiled to herself though, turning to the elf, "They have the right idea though. I wasn't cut for the life at sea, even if Weary Traveler was. We ought to get more supplies, we're running low."

"C'mon, you bucket of bolts." Gwyn growled after nodding to Yawna, her eyes shifting to Malchior. The paladin grumbled, grudgingly raising himself. Since he had wounded Var'Jun he had become more of a prisoner than a guest amongst their group.

The happy voices of Kat and Var'Jun were never that far around the corner. Yawna could hear them happily garbling, a shriek of dismay and then annoyance announcing that the troll had gone too far again. The smacking sound was heard before Yawna rounded the corner.

"It was just a piece of bark in your hair." the troll whined, his hand held to his face. He snorted, wincing and prodding it gingerly before pulling a face that suggested that he was deeply hurt. Behind it he was smiling though, his tusks bobbing up and down when he laughed silently.

"Oh yah sure," Kat snorted, "That's why you went _much_ lower. I see your logic. You're impossible. Barely able to walk and still trying to bother me. Ugh." She threw her hands up in the air, defeated thoroughly.

"Aw, don't be like that." Var'Jun smiled, playfully prodding her, "You know you didn't mind one bit." He swung out of the way of her swift hand, springing backwards.

"Both of you," Gwyn remarked, her ears pricked to the sound of a cool river flowing, "Are impossible. Both of you. Hear that though? A river I suppose, small though. Maybe we'll find something here." She marched in the direction of the small sound, the bubbling spring flowing smoothly.

The met the small tributary a few moments later. Even though it was shallow and murky in spots it flowed clean and smooth and others, the water singing happily back to the birds. Gwyn dipped a leather flask into it, her face brightening.

"Must have flowed up from Ironforge. Granted that the snow actually melted slightly. It's never really warm up there anyhow." she took a long swig before nodding, "Maybe from Ironforge. We'll know any rate soon. We can follow it up."

"We have to go through Ironforge?" Malchior asked, his first question in a few days. He sniffed at the water for a moment before taking a short swig, his mouth pulling into distaste. Truly he could find nothing with the liquid, but nonetheless felt he had to convey some sort of discontent.

"Yep," Yawna replied, her own flask filling quickly, "If we're going north to the Undercity to try to persuade their leader then we'll have to. Yes, I believe it's from Ironforge. There's small metallic traces of taste."

"Spoken like a true hunter," Var'Jun said, his head swinging back and his Adam's apple bobbing as the water poured down his throat, "I prefer hard whiskey or good ale, but it's better than the crates of that stuff we had."

"True hunter," Yawna scoffed, "Not me. What hunter can't even kill. I can hardly skin anything and keep my lunch much less kill anything."

"Ah, but you can track," Var'Jun replied, "Besides, Gwyn can do the hunting until I get my strength back. I'm not terrible, bad at tracking but not terrible." The troll began to make his way along the banks of the stream, his head facing north. "Speaking of tracks, we better be making some. Sun's not setting any slower."

Yawna chuckled as the sturdy troll stumbled down the shore, his feet half in and half out of the shallow current. Kat shook her head, tottering to catch up with him.

"Wouldn't it be quicker to sail up?" Yawna asked as the group continued. Malchior's hand was constantly on his sword hilt and Yawna made sure to eye him down before continuing, "We could do with saving time."

"Any ship seen off the coast may be shot down immediately." Gwyn replied, "Better to walk and remain unseen than to be hindered by angry natives. Don't worry, we'll make good time."

* * *

A few hours later Var'Jun and Kat were wiped. They rested against a small rocky outcropping near the river, a small campfire crackling near them. The sun was setting on the lower lip of Azeroth, the dying rays of the disk casting a red light over the woods.

"Bountiful," Gwyn remarked shortly as she removed a stick from the fire. The end was speared with a piece of meat from a wild boar that had been captured earlier by hers truly. Yawna sat nearby, clicking away at shelled nuts and small, plump berries.

"But earlier I saw a Garrison Tower." Kat remarked shortly, "Over the tree line. There were quite a few guards in there. And we didn't even bother to cover our tracks."

Var'Jun shrugged, "If we're lucky a few humans with sticks will be our biggest problem."

The sound of light snores were filling the camp. Yawna was on the second watch, the moon a blinking eye that looked down upon her. She stared back at it, her eyes piercing it's pearly and porous surface.

For a long time since her mother had died Yawna had watched the moon. Bane had once said that it was the souls of the warriors past, gathered together in one concentrated mass of light and sound that could only be heard by the stars.

Two-Moons had claimed it was the eye of the Earthmother watching over them all, that was why it followed you. Every night she would close her eyes a but more until once it was all closed. For even the god had to close her eye once in a while. That was when evil was most prominent, for then the Earthmother wasn't able to watch.

But Yawna had studied it for a long, long time now. She closed her eyes, her Awareness trying to reach out to the disk. But all she could feel was the same feeling of when she had tried to feel what stones felt like. It was a cold feeling, lonesome and solid. Nothing more.

"The moon is not the Earthmother or old spirits," Yawna whispered softly to herself, a tear dripping down her face, "Because the Earthmother doesn't exist at all. She's a story told to calves to make them sleep at night. Otherwise my mother would still be here, and Two-Moons too, and all of Bloodhoof Village and Bolo too. Otherwise none of this would never happen."

Yawna listened to an owl call through the air for a moment. "The Earthmother does not exist." Yawna repeated to herself, her faith slipping away, "And the moon is only a huge glowing sphere in the air. Nothing more."

Yawna looked to Gwyn, the elf sleeping peacefully. The elves worshipped Elune, the moon goddess. But the moon was nothing but a stone, cold and hard. Yawna decided not to tell her friend this. No one should have to lose her faith but herself.

"Oh Father," Yawna breathed, her hands holding the smooth beads of the sunset horn band, "I wish you were here to guide me. I'm so lost." In the distance Yawna heard a crashing noise. She sprang up, her hand flying to the hilt of her axe. At first she thought that humans might be coming. But she heard the tell tale clicking of something more stupid, but sinister.

The angular face of a Murloch erupted through the bush. Yawna growled at it, raising her axe swiftly. The creature clicked a laugh out before making a loud call. Yawna was surprised that she could understand the broken language.

"Assemble brother sisters. Found group, make fast to here." The Murloch turned to give her an inhuman smile as from the growth plucked hundreds upon hundreds of hostile Murloch faces.

* * *

There you go. Sorry, sort of depressed. My boyfriends been cheating on me. Surprise, surprise. I suspected anyhow. Hope you enjoyed, much more to do. Review please, need a moral booster. Edited a few parts, btw... 


	16. The Brittle Truth

Disclaimer: As stated under section 5D under subsection 11A and prior to the articles 3 mentioned in section 9L and paragraph X I do **not **own Warcraft and that I am longwinded.

A/N: An apology. It has taken me a very long time to come with this new chapter. This can be attributed to my history teacher, or rather my procrastination at starting a project due tomorrow which I had six weeks to do. Yes, it was foolish of me, but it came out well. Also that this week has been… trying, for lack of a better word. Enough excuses, down to business.

**Youkai, **you and me both. Murlochs are a real pain, specially when there are a whole lot of them. Sheesh, one problem after the next.

**Samus **nice to know you're so flexible. It's always good to hear people are absorbed, that means I've done my job right.

Darn you got the fish back** Dragoness. **Oh well, bigger fish to fry (no pun intended). 0.o No that was weak. Anyhow, yes you'll be surprised with Malchior in this chapter. He has taken on a new level of pain-in-the-ass. A shame. No, Var'Jun's still here. It's way too early in the story for anything such as that. And yes, my ex is a -bleep-. Good of people to know.

Sorry about that **Kyn**, it was actually supposed to be 'disk.' If you look back you can see I fixed it. That was just too bad to leave there. You guys always make me feel better .:fuzzy:. Thank you!

Yep **Crimson,** it's the truth. I ripped him a new one though. Anyhow, you better be getting sleep. School's important, I'm still in it anyhow. And yes, hundreds might have been a bit of a stretch (author's license) but still pretty close.

Wow, 60+ reviews. I feel so loved!

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: The Brittle Truth

For a moment there was a strange silence that seemed to be able to stretch itself over the whole camp, an elastic skin ripping the breath from lungs. Then the Murloc clicked, stepping forwards on grotesque legs and pushing a spear into Yawna's space. It aimed for her throat, the creature talking in broken sentences that Yawna shouldn't have understood, but did.

"Keep you quiet, yah? Lotsa Murloc here bouts, big numba gonna gitcha. No screamin, hear? Cow stays small voice, okay?" It smiled, a few of the other Murlochs slipping forth slowly. They were like nature's mistake, giving weapons to some of the dumbest creatures it could. Frogs no less.

Yawna paused, her hand quivering over the gun handle. In a moment she could have blown the ability to talk and function right out of this evolutionary joke. But the destructive gun made her Awareness hiss and whisk backwards as if struck. She nodded, staying silent.

One of them tripped over Var'Jun's leg. The troll awoke with a start, his hands groping for his sword in the dark. He swore as he spotted the Murloc, his weak arms failing to raise the impossible broad sword that he had claimed as his weapon.

Kat was close to the troll, she woke now to, trying desperately to summon the blue fire to her hands. But magic failed as the Murloc's spear pushed into her chest, the blade tickling right above her heart. Var'Jun made a small growling noise, his hands trying once again to raise his sword despite the fact that another new spear was dancing in his face.

"Murlochs," Gwyn spit as she was woken, her nose wrinkling disdainfully. She had not been a far ways away from Yawna and now her voice was easily carried to the tauren's ears. "We're in trouble now. Ugly toads."

"Hey, hey, hey." The same Murloc who held Yawna clicked, "Marakaka not toad. Quiet long-ears. Small voice. Marakaka make short work of you yah? Big metal guy you wake him up now." The last was directed at another Murloc standing close by the armored man.

"Damn them and their clicking." Gwyn growled as Malchior was awoken, "If they're going to attack someone they ought to learn their language."

"You couldn't understand them?" Yawna asked quickly.

"You could?" Gwyn looked startled, but it was then that something went horribly wrong.

Instead of threatening Malchior the Murlochs patted him on the back or clicked their approval. They were smiling, gleaming teeth spitting from their cracked jaws. Malchior in turn was nodding, apparently their patting was not quite comfortable with him but he was smiling as well nonetheless.

"Malchior?" Kat demanded, "How could you?" Her eyes were hollow and cold, beside her Var'Jun giving another animal-like growl. The priestess watched the paladin as if she had been struck by him.

"All for you, my dear Katherine." he replied, pointing to her an nodding erratically to the bipedal frogs ((A/N: There you go Dragoness)). They paused for a moment, then moved their spears down so that Kat could have moved. However they snatched her up, slimy hands forcing her to stand and move towards Malchior.

"Get your hands off her." Var'Jun snarled, red creeping into his eyes. A touch of the Fury battered the troll's mind. Yawna could feel it creeping into his conscience without his consent.

"Metal guy takes little girly, yah? Fair trade, fair trade. Metal guy goes now. We take group now yah. Marakaka bring to Chief, much food for him now." The Murloc, Marakaka, steadied himself on his spear. Malchior made no inclination the he had heard, gripping Kat's arms with a vice-like grip.

That troll had to be quickly retrained, his breath ragged and weak. Malchior began to laugh softly as the weakened warrior snarled and spit, clawing at the Murloc's arms and legs and biting whatever came into his range. This continued until one of the Murlochs became fed up and stuck out with a small and wickedly curved fist. A few beads of blood welled up on the trolls lip and he slumped backwards.

"You're coming with me." Malchior hissed to Kat, then addressing Yawna, "Your nonsense and peace ends here and now. Let's see how long you last with the frogs here." He smiled, stepping away from the group and dragging a screaming Kat with him. Soon his figure was lost in the brush and trees.

"Bastard." Gwyn chewed out.

"Marakaka finish mouth words to all now. Gonna get up. Cow woman understand, you tell dem to wakey-wakey, stand for move feet. Brother sisters guide you, yah. Marakaka brings you Chief, aye." Marakaka sniffed and motioned with his spear, the broken language ringing in Yawna's ears first as the strange Murloc speech and then as orchish.

"They say get up." Yawna says wearily, her eyes full of terror. She hated being able to understand them, hated having to watch as her friends moved but also to feel their utter despair. Hated not being able to pull out her gun and fire away. Hated to feel the looming presence of the Murlochs. She hated the Awareness.

"We need to get Kat." Var'Jun spit as he stood. His lip was bleeding freely now, one tusk trickling with blood as it spilled form the open cut. He growled as the Murloc pushed him along but didn't stop them. He knew he hadn't the power right now.

"We can't." Gwyn said softly, "The most we can do right now is to remember that they can't understand our language and keep trying to think of a plan. We have no chance of escaping right now as it is."

Var'Jun hung his head, a soft groan escaping his lips. He clutched his side, the wound from Malchior still fresh and painful. He tottered along as the spears pushed behind him. Marakaka noticed his slowness and looked at Yawna with wide, unfeeling fish eyes.

"What wrong wit' wild mane big ears? He no feet move fast enough. Go slow and we kill him, yah yah. Big spear go good into his ears, chah." Marakaka brandished the spear to prove his point, "Maybe we makes him go faster, maybe we makes him no goes at all. You tell him go make fast."

"Var'Jun," Yawna winced as the Awareness enveloped his pain and brought it to her. The troll looked so lost. "They want you to move faster. You'd better." She closed her eyes as the troll looked to where Kat had disappeared, his eyes haunted and miserable.

The Murlochs prodded their unfortunate captors forward, Gwyn bristling like the cat that was her second form. She allowed to frogs to take her bow, shifting as they touched her shoulders and hips to make sure she had no other weapons concealed. Blades were kept close to the trio at all times as they underwent the same process.

* * *

Finally they were herded along. The forest gave way to small streams and tributaries that Yawna would have never guessed were there. It must have been from the runoff of Ironforge and all the spring water, but somehow Yawna feared it.

The Murlochs finally emerged from the dense brush and bush to a muddy clearing. There were a few barbaric, crude huts of that and sticks there. A few of the amphibious creatures toddled about, sharpening spears or stitching armor or cooking food. Yawna cringed at the sight of.

'_They're growing smarter,' _She thought to herself with awe and fear, '_Soon they'll be just as smart as we are and we'll pay for all the damage we've done. I… I can understand them. Whose to say there aren't more like me?'_

"Gitcha gitcha inside now. Many Chieftain hours wait, yah? Make-a you not be waiting no longer. Chief Kalamika wanna be big chief with little human. Make more hold people of you." Marakaka pushed on Yawna with his spear a little the creatures face blinking and leering at her like some obscene fish. The huntress's hooves were pointed in the direction of a large, leather tent that looked as if it had been stolen and put up rather crudely again.

"Hey Yawna?" Gwyn asked as the tauren ignored Marakaka's jibe of 'no mouth words!' and listened to the druid. "Where did Weary Traveler get to?"

"He probably ditched us," Var'Jun glowered darkly from the other side of the elf, "I don't blame him either. We're going to end up as frog food."

"No, I think he was following Kat and Malchior for a spell, but he's around somewhere." No one questioned the tauren's word. Var'Jun wrinkled his nose though, snorting as the Murloc failed to comprehend the common tongue and blinked their dismay.

"Gitcha Chief Kalamika!" Marakaka ordered a nearby Murloc. It was young, scrambling on partially developed legs to get it's chieftain. Marakaka's throat swelled with pride and he coughed as if totally nonchalant about his great capture.

Another Murloc emerged from the tent. He was huge, with a great bulging throat and spines that ran up his back like the quills of a porcupine. His nostrils flared, taking in the scent of the intruders. As he walked he jangled, the many spines and edges to his body adorned with jewels and trinkets. Yawna winced as she noticed the crude stitching along the hem of his robes, but stitching nonetheless. The Murloc were getting smarter, and apparently they were moving inland as well.

"Big Chief Kalamika," Marakaka began, his arms swerving back to reveal his prisoners, "Marakaka take him news of good. We found bad people, yah, sittin' by de river, know? Make-a da big fight de did, but we wins."

"That's a lie," Gwyn mumbles as Yawna quickly retells the tale through the Murloc's mouth, but it is ignored by the troops.

"What da big ears doin' here?" The chief demanded suddenly. His face leered from the shadow created by the tent. Then Yawna noticed it, a large scar that traveled over the top of one of his eyes, permanently blinding the orb, and down under the eye and to his pointed chin. The cut had healed over long ago with purple flesh, something significant of Murloc scars and not exactly attractive to the females of the race. Especially on the face.

"I catch-a dem, bring to Chief Kalamika for the keep people. Big monies and land where them get sold, yah?" Marakaka was beginning to sweat. He gulped softly and tried to put on a smile but his chief's face was growing livid.

"Why you bring him troll?" Kalamika demanded again. He was livid now, a finger running over the marred flesh of his scar while the other reached out to grab a nearby, fleeting concubine that skittered from his sight . The creature looked extremely unhappy at the unconfident chief's grasping.

Var'Jun was trying to remain strong during all of this. He had on a very defiant face, wrinkling his nose and watching Yawna from the corner of his eye. Not more than once did Yawna see his hand move towards where his sword would have been. He knew just as well as she did that if they wanted to attack then they would most certainly prevail against the weak troll, pacifist hunter, and unarmed druid.

"I thinking just-"

"Filthy big ear!" the chief roared. He snarled, letting go of the small concubine and rushing forwards. In his hands was already a large pole arm, the long and wicked blade on the end glinted viciously. The point whistled through the air, only to have the handle very close to the blade caught by the troll just before it split open his face.

Gwyn and Yawna both tried to push forwards to stop this but were quickly held back by the guards. Likewise the Murloc around their chief pulsed forwards in an effort to strop the stalemated duelists.

"No, no, I slay him self." The chieftain roared. He pushed harder on the spear, angling it upwards so that it faced Var'Jun's heart. The troll pushed back, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed against the force.

Yawna felt Var'Jun through the Awareness. His heart was racing, mind reeling as he remembered his weakened strength. At first he pushed hard onto the spear, but as a second or two passed the tension began to slack. The troll was suddenly remembering Kat, that he might never see her again or have the chance to take his revenge on Malchior. He might never get the possibility to avenge his mother's death or be a strong leader to his people. He might never be the leader his mother of father were.

The troll let go of the spear. He welcomed death, welcomed it with open arms. Var'Jun felt his problems too great, his significance too small. A cry tore from Yawna's lips and she immediately felt the Awareness respond with strength. It burst from her minds and traveled down to her hands where she could clench it like a solid thing and mold it to her will. Yawna had never felt so superior, so powerful in her life and though this scared her she knew that it also gave her the power to save and heal. Yawna raised her hand with a motion that seemed to freeze the world.

In the split second that Var'Jun welcomed himself to death and Kalamika's spear drove forwards the water under their feet began to gather. When Yawna raised her hand it rushed up, creating a wall in front of the troll that carried with it small particles of rock and vegetation. The wall that formed was clear, tinted slightly with sunspots from where the water had formed and cast light in all directions. The spear hit it with a tangible sound, smacking off the deluge and coming backwards with a shock that traveled down the Murloc chief's arm. The noise it made was that of hitting a tankard of water or water cooler, a bubbly, underwater sound that took on the quality of floating in the air.

Kalamika exclaimed in disbelief, hitting the wall once more as if to make sure he was not imagining it. Var'Jun grunted softly, his eyes flicking to Yawna straight away. She did not look back at him though, instead staring directly ahead of her with eyes that were once hazel and now turned cool blue. They glowed with a light that even Gwyn's could not match, a serene peace that cloaked a disturbing violence underneath.

"Miragaka." the small concubine hissed after a moment. In seconds she was kneeling on the ground, her face practically pressed into the mud. Her mouth was moving as a blur, words that sounded like clicks and mutterings to Gwyn and Var'Jun turned to prayers for Yawna's ears. The Murloc clasped her hands above her head, fear emitting from her body as well as awe and surreal disbelief.

"Miragaka." the cry was taken up amongst the nearer Murloc. At that point Yawna seemed to snap out of her strange state. She looked around, blinking at the wall of water and the crowd of Murloc that were now kneeling on the ground. The name was spread like wildfire until all Murloc in the camp were kneeling but the chief.

"Miragaka." He too pantomimed, his eyes wide and cold, "Goddess Miragaka?" The chief went down onto one bended knee, the spear dropped from his hand. The guards behind Var'Jun and Gwyn both went down as well so that the two could move freely, Var'Jun backing up from the water wall as if it were painful to stand near.

The chieftain began to speak again, his voice clicking and chattering away like an angry squirrel's. Var'Jun and Gwyn exchanged glances in turn as they watched Yawna's eyes widen in shock and disbelief. She kept shaking her head, back pedaling slightly and holding up her hands. The wall of water fell back into the muddy ground. The same clicking words fell from Yawna's lips in syllables of protest and surprise.

"What's wrong Yawna?" Gwyn asked as soon as Kalamika fell silent. The Murloc still kneeled none daring to move from the ground in the presence of the confused tauren.

"They say," Yawna said very softly as if she could hardly believe that the words were coming out of her mouth, "They say that I'm their goddess. Miragaka. They say I've come to save them, to control the water and rid them of the humans that have stolen their land."

* * *

Not very long ago Yawna had believed she and her comrades were to die. They had never been able to overpower large groups when they were at full power. And now with the absence of Kat, Var'Jun's weak and heart broken strength, and the faith sucked from Yawna's souls she thought it would be truly a miracle if they all breathed that night. But low and behold they were there, all three crouching in a small Murloc hut surrounded by guards willing to protect their goddess.

"We have to find Kat and Malchior," Var'Jun argued again, his tone a steely one. The troll's eyes were pleading Yawna more than Gwyn, his antagonist. He was clutching his side, the wound sending stabbing pains up his spine as well as the worry of his bleeding heart.

"Look, it's not as if we can just walk from this hut and leave the Murloc. They think their goddess has come to save them from the traders on the river that drove them away. If anything they'll forcibly stop us if we try to leave. Even if Elune herself descended from the clouds and demanded leave an hour later I don't think the elves would allow her to leave." Gwyn looked to Yawna, something in her eyes making the tauren shake.

Yawna was still deeply affected by her finding of the moon. It was not the goddess that Yawna's people or Gwyn's people had said it was. Just a cold, floating rock. The way Gwyn said this with conviction made the tauren feel guilty all over again. That was not the only thing. Gwyn's look taught Yawna another thing. The elf looked at her not as an equal but someone beyond and mortal principles. She could wield magic mages only dreamed they could ever taste.

"I'm sorry Var'Jun." Yawna said, almost breaking down as she watched the troll mentally collapse, "But Gwyn's right. If I just walk out now they're most likely to be angry and hostile. We'll have to find another way."

At that moment they were interrupted. A loud Murloc voice began chattering outside. It screamed first, then made a small growling noise before yelling again.

"They demand to see us." Yawna translated quickly. Var'Jun found her gift of tongues disturbing and Gwyn saw it eerie at best. Yawna couldn't escape the look in their eyes.

They exited the crude hut again. A heavy Murloc was flanking another much smaller and aged specimen. But beside that was another female, one smaller than most and a strange, luminous blue color that seemed to shift and move.

"Dat not Miragaka. Dis is. You see her ya? She not Murloc, she cow woman from plains water not and da big tall rocks with da heads of flat. Miragaka is this one." the elder pushed the young blue female forwards and she stood tall and proud. Yawna busily translated, piecing the sentences together for her friends.

"Just because she water color mean she able control color water eh?" Chief Kalamika was Yawna's supporter and ignored as she translated The leader continued, "You say she Miragaka and even she name dat still not water control yah? Miragaka now control the water." The chief nodded and bulged his throat sac, a sign of power and prestige. The aged Murloc snorted.

"Whatchoo support for?" he demanded, "She might be friend sister wit humans, yah maybe? She want our land too. And we must be up here where water little. Water none almost. How long till we have that we dead all?"

At that moment there seemed to be more to say, but something else vowed for a position of speech. An arrow, deftly aimed and wickedly sharp, whistled through the air and leaves. The elder had time to turn to see it, the slow reflexes of mortal beings preventing the Murloc from moving. The arrow struck him dead between the eyes and he fell with a splash into the mud just as Yawna heard the cry.

"For the Alliance!"

* * *

Sorry about the terribly long wait. Lots of things going on in school, family, and friends. But don't worry, I'll try and get the next chapter out sooner because this was such a long wait. Gnomenasai, all. And don't worry, the next chapter is full to the brim with more action, suspense, and death. And you people like it, tsk tsk. Anyhow, pressed for time so until the next, Blood and Thunder all. 


	17. Blood and Thunder

Disclaimer: Still not owning Warcraft. Don't own a car either, or a gold toilet. Not much there to own anyhow. And really, who own anything man?

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading again. Yes, I started this chapter only a day after the last one was put out. If this one is late I blame… um…. You. Yes you, for making it so hard. Really, I said when I started this that I would write after ever three reviews. Then I didn't think this would amount to much. Now after five hours of being out it usually has five reviews. Working my poor fingers to the bone you are!

**Dragoness** whoa! And I do mean whoa, yes. Thanks for that installment and your bipedal frogs. Yes, the Murloc really got the crappy ed of this deal. Their beliefs have been put on the line as well. They're sort of fun to write for anyhow. Beware the sharp, pointy Alliance. Never ending good… peaceful though?

**Youkai, **hello again. I love the Murloc culture! And their speech is super fun to write. Good thing Yawna has the gift of tongues otherwise I'd end up writing Grblblblbrlrblr! A lot. Wow, poor Malchior seems to have risen to a new level of jack ass. That's a shame. The accent is not surprising. Now that you mention it sort of seems that way…

And to all those that didn't have questions but complimented or enjoyed I thank you with a gusto.

So now that I'm on a roll…

* * *

Chapter 17: Blood and Thunder 

"Please Malchior. We can't, you can't." Kat cringed as Malchior secured her tightly in his grasp once again. He had pulled her halfway through the forest leaving far behind her friends. The priestess's mind raced. There were so many reasons that this was wrong, but her brain could think of only one situation and that was Kolkua.

The undead general still haunted her mind. She could feel him there like a deadly presence even though Var'Jun had slain him long back. Memories still haunted the human, her fragile faith kept close to the troll. Being dragged away by the paladin was breaking her.

"I can and will." Malchior growled. He paused near a copse of trees, his breath ragged and foul. "Your parents promised you to me before they died. You promised yourself to me so long ago. I don't care what you have to say now because you are a woman and you will stay quiet."

Kat winced away, trying desperately to strain away from the breath that now threatened to imbibe her. She could taste his foul intentions on the air and the paladin's hands moved down her waist slowly.

"Gods no," she whimpered.

At that moment they were thankfully interrupted. Something crashed loudly through the underbrush and the chattering of Murloc voices could be heard in shrill panic over the sounds of rushing woods. Malchior panicked and let go of the writhing priestess, his snarl trailing from lips that had held similar deadly thoughts before hand. They had not traveled far that day, Malchior knew this. Kat had struggled all through the journey and Malchior was forced to stop and rest from lack of sleep and energy.

Human voices rose above the Murloc. "For the Alliance." was heard at intervals of no more than two minutes. Shrieks and cries followed shortly after.

The first Murloc to burst through the underbrush cried softly. It was a young male, the spear in it's hand broken and the head bent. The amphibious creature didn't bother to give Kat and Malchior a second glance. With a cry of terror it went crashing through the underbrush again and was followed closely by the invisible sound of a rogue that would probably soon ambush it while cloaked.

"What's happening?" Kat asked softly, though it was not really Malchior she was talking to. At that moment she could have cared less what the paladin knew. She knew now she only wanted to be back with her companions.

"A battle." Malchior replied, "Storming is probably raiding Elwynn forest. They were having Murloc problems anyhow." He shrugged, grasping Kat by the wrist. "Somewhere more private." He mumbled to himself. Kat could almost sense the tension and anticipation in his muscles. She began to shake.

'_Enough of this_,' Kat growled to her own mind, '_I'm not some damsel in distress. I have my own power, and I can use it too.' _The priestess almost betrayed herself with a smile but kept it hidden. She called on the magic in her mind, summoning it slowly to her hands without straining herself and repeating over and over in her head, '_Agony.'_

Malchior felt a strange tingling sensation in his arm. It was weird, a small prickling like tiny needles though it wasn't quite painful. It sent shivers up his arm though, slowly traveling to reach his shoulder. Here is where the sensation should have taken all his body, but the spell and Kat's weakened strength could not handle it then. It did have power though, not just a tingling sensation would stay.

Malchior screamed in anguish as the pain affected his arm. It felt as if the entire hand the gripped Kat's wrist so harshly was now on fire. The arm felt as if small pieces of it were being ripped out little by little and burning away like acid. He let go of Kat quickly in an attempt to rid himself of the terrible loathing pain that spread over his limb. It was fire and ice and in a badly thought out effort to rid himself of it the Paladin began to scratch away at his arm and cause it to bleed.

Kat might have smiled there if she was not appalled at what her spell could do. Instead she wept to herself and tried to call forth the power to run away from what she had caused. It hurt, to know that she had so much force and ability. But it was what must be done. For the sake of everything that she held dear.

The priestess ran off into the brush where the Murloc had gone and once Malchior realized that she was missing and the spell was lowering in intensity he took off after her in a hot and furious pursuit.

* * *

As soon as the arrow struck Yawna felt the Murloc die. It was a small blow to the stomach that didn't quite affect her as it should have. While grateful Yawna realized with a start that she was actually used to feeling death now. It was not so surprising to her anymore and hardly required the same will that it used to. In fact it made for more of an annoyance than anything else. Maybe it was because the Murloc supposedly had a smaller intelligence than normal. But after all, Yawna thought, a life is a life. A soul a soul, so why shouldn't it count for the same amount of pain? 

She had not time to muse over this. Var'Jun seemed to have regained most of his ability. He stood with his broad sword ready, the blade gleaming as he faced the oncoming horrors that awaited the troll as it had awaited his mother and his mother's mother years and years past.

Gwyn was not as frightened. She knew that the Alliance members would not try and shoot her down as they would Yawna or Var'Jun. She was, after all, a night elf and therefore on their side. But truth be told she could hardly except this excuse now. She was worried for her friends sake anyhow.

Yawna paused, drawing the bone axe with a sluggish movement that suggested it was painful to do so. The Murloc gathered around her, their goddess of sorts, fearful and shameful with whimpering mouths and crying eyes. They were Murloc children to be truthful, but they were children and just like when Yawna had seen Thralk kill and eat the undead child she felt the same protection of one of not her race.

"This is ungodly." She said to Marakaka. The Murloc looked up at her, his former prisoner turned deity. For a moment he didn't seem to register that she was talking to him but then listened as she continued.

"You will be outnumbered and slaughtered. Take your people far away if you must. Farther away then you ever have before. To the islands where no man lives, near the Maelstrom if you must. Get them to safety."

Marakaka nodded numbly. She was the goddess, after all, what she said went. He paused for a moment as if finding her pure and flawless, and in his eyes and the eyes of his people she was. The only flaw he could find was that she would not be coming with them. He nodded, however, and smiled almost daringly.

"Friend always, Miragaka. Always friend. If Miragaka need ever anything she calls on the Murloc, yah? We fight for her." Marakaka turned, calling out to his small village. Even the Chief Kalamika listened to the small wiry Murloc. He repeated Yawna's words louder and with more confidence and brazen. His legs lopped and spun as he began to race the opposite direction from where the humans were. To the shore.

Every Murloc followed him. Even the small blue Murloc that would soon be known as the Disciple of Miragaka to her people. The arrow fire was heavy now, whistling like locusts as the hailed through the leaves and branches and sought to strike opponents down. They did catch the legs and arms of a few Murloc but with no fatal hits. Their companions were willing helpers and aided the wounded along.

"Which was did Kat and Malchior head Var'Jun." She almost smiled as the troll's eyes brightened. He chuckled almost insanely now, throwing back his head as he was narrowly missed by an arrow.

"Right where the humans are coming from Miragaka." He smiled as Yawna shook her head. This was nothing to laugh at, but he couldn't help but giggle with the fits of someone who knew that the feat at hand was nigh impossible. And of course, to throw in Yawna's goddess dubbing.

"Well I'll just have to perform a miracle then, won't I?" Yawna asked. Her face was sincere enough though her voice hardly danced with that laughter it should have. The tauren was already suffering the side affects of having people dying around her. Even though it was numbed she could hardly take the stomach punches for that long. Someday it would break her.

"I have a plan." Yawna's ear was narrowly missed by a zipping arrow as it threatened to claim her head. She ignored it as if it weren't there though both Var'Jun and Gwyn jumped in surprise.

"They can't see us yet. They're just shooting blindly though the seem to have good aim. So this is what we do…"

* * *

When the first front line of the human soldiers broke the cover they smiled. The humans loved to see night elves amongst their legions, not because the night elves were known for their skills in battle and their honor, but because these humans were men. Young men, in fact. And all young men enjoy seeing a female night elf bristling with battle lust and dripping with spats of mud as she holds a sword above prisoners heads. 

"Hey boys," Gwyn purred smoothly, the cat's voice of her second skin making her voice as sweet as milk in the morning. "Thought I'd be wily and run ahead. Good thing I did too, there's a few prisoners to bring back now, huh?" the druid's voice dripped silky sweet and the humans only could nod.

"I'll be the first to congratulate the man who brings back the most Murloc fins." Gwyn continued. Var'Jun almost laughed, his good humor returned to him now that his full power seemed to have returned and his battle close at hand. He kept a straight face though, or rather a pitiful and frightened looking one.

The men ran off, their swords held eagerly. Gwyn scoffed and scowledonce they were out of earshot and allowed the two Horde members to rise. Yawna smiled at the elf, her eyes twinkling.

"You owe me Yawna." the elf growled, her hands swiftly wiping the dripping mud from her close-fitting leather clothes. "That was almost certainly the most desperate thing that we have had to do all trip."

"It worked though." Yawna replied as she quickly followed the troll and elf into the brush. She was following Var'Jun, he knew where Kat and Malchior had first ran off. Only the troll had really concentrated on where the Murloc were turning and stumbling.

"Stop," Yawna commanded suddenly, "Look there." She pointed to a small piece of cloth caught on a thorn. Nearby was a new fresh set of tracks and closer to that a series of panicked steps as if the walker had been in terrible agony.

"What do you make of that, hunter?" Var'Jun asked. He studied the cloth closely, pressing it to his long, angular nose and breathing in deeply. "It's Kat's alright. What do you think happened."

"I don't know." Yawna replied, her hands pressing into the tracks and following Kat's footsteps as they ran from the scene of the terrorized tracks, "But I can tell you this. They're not long left, the tracks suggest Malchior was following her at top speed, see how they're pushed in like that. And one more thing, following them will bring us close."

As the trio began to scan the underbrush fro more and was guided along the trail set for them Gwyn scoffed. "Malchior must be either very preoccupied with what he was doing or extremely stupid. His path led them parallel to ours enough so that he was no more than eighty feet away from us at all times.

"Damn him." Var'Jun growled only to stop a moment later, "Do you smell that? Blood, and the cries of pain on the air. There's a battle close at hand."

The trolls word could not have been truer. As they crested the hill of brush and trees the plants shot away as if into an abyss. All that was left was an immense clearing. The slow sound of weapons clashing and people dying was felt throughout the place. Grass was stained dark and oozing red while the trees seemed to weep.

"There," Var'Jun growled, both with anger and anxiety. Yawna and Gwyn followed the trolls pointing sword to find the middle of the battle field. They looked past fighting humans and entangled Murloc to see Kat and Malchior standing back to back and fighting with all they had.

The paladin was wounded in a myriad of places. His arms and legs were cut and ripped so that hardly any skin was left. He was defending only Kat, blocking only the blows meant for her and ripping back with his own. His sword was stained blue-black with Murloc blood as the amphibious creatures attacked him from all sides.

Kat was holding her own even though unlike Var'Jun her full strength was not quite returned. Blue fire spun around in her hands and launched at anything that was moving. They hit with a bursting force that caused the Murloc to fall down, screaming in terror and woe.

Yawna was happy to see that what had now become semi-familiar Murloc faces of the tribe of Marakaka and Kalamika were not amongst those fighting. She had, after all, told them to flee in what was the words of their goddess to them. They were far away from the battle now, she hoped, safe and swimming to the opposite shores.

"We have to help them." Var'Jun growled, "We have to help her." Yawna felt her mind immediately shoved from the troll's. She had not actually been snooping, Yawna's mind always seemed to be in contact with her companions minimally whether she willed it or not. But now Var'Jun's mind had taken on a strange quality and was pushing her out as if angry with her. She turned to look at the troll but coiled back quickly as she saw him begin to tense. A wash of anger spread over her like a fiery torrent and drove her backwards.

The troll's eyes turned a brilliant hue of golden red and he snarled. Royal Fury entered his blood, the trademark anger and battle skill of the royal troll line of the Darkspear Tribe. Yawna could feel his conscience thoughts draining away as he became a killing machine. In a matter or second the transformation was complete and Var'Jun took off like a light shot cast from a musket. His wild braid and mane of purple hair could be seen flinging across the battle field.

"He's right you know, though it seems strange to say that Var'Jun is right in any way." Gwyn pulled the string of her bow taut and let the arrow fly at a passing Murloc. The responding scream of anger and frustration responded a little ways later with the feeling of an injury.

Gwyn saw Yawna hesitate, the axe shaking in the large tauren's hand. "Don't worry," she said softly, "I'll guide you there. You won't have to kill anyone." Yawna nodded slowly, but she was more watching the figures in the middle of the battle.

Malchior was fading. Yawna could feel it already. Kat seemed to know he was badly wounded too. He fighting became more desperate and she struggled to continue fighting while still trying to check on him

Var'Jun was caught amongst fighting factions. He slew human and Murloc alike, Yawna having to turn her head away to avoid the sounds and feelings of pain coming from the battle near him. The troll fought like a mad devil, his red eyes always set on only one thing.

"C'mon. It's now or never." Yawna replied steadily despite her remorse. The battle was shifting too, the Murloc being driven back and the humans chasing them into the trees. They were leaving behind the wounded and dead and as the troops shifted Yawna saw that Var'Jun's attackers didn't flee. They seemed too caught in the troll's wrath now.

And yet Var'Jun seemed to have gone totally insane. He had let his sword be caught on the ground and was now fighting tooth and nail. Or rather nail. His long claws racked the sides of humans and one unfortunate Murloc managed to grasp him around the neck. The troll reacted with rage, gripping the Murloc's neck and twisted with a sickening crack that made bile rise to Yawna's throat. It was too much for his attackers as well. They fled.

Now the only fighters left were a few humans working out a squabble with Murloc and the bipedal frogs attacking Malchior and Kat. Var'Jun hastened to get to them as his antagonists left and he was free. Gwyn broke into a run as well and Yawna was not far behind her.

Most of the Murloc had fled now. Only one was actually left, but it was one that would soon change the entire thing. The weapon it carried was a curved scimitar, cruelly sharpened to a deadly point. The Murloc growled, lunging at Kat. She was too taken by surprise to block it, her arms flying to her face in an attempt to stop the pain she knew was coming. The death she knew was coming.

Malchior made a fateful decision. His legs were tight as wound springs and as soon as the energy in them was released her propelled in front of the priestess in one bound. The scimitar crashed through his ribcage, emerging out of his back dangling with gore and blood. Likewise Malchior's sword crunched through the Murloc's skull and the insidious creature fell before Malchior even hit the ground.

Var'Jun was at the fallen paladin's side in an instant. The troll kneeled down, his hands clutching the shoulders of the gasping human. Kat was too shocked and anguished to move, her hands clutched to her mouth and her entire form shaking like a leaf in fluttering wind.

"Don't you dare die!" Var'Jun screamed at the paladin. His voice was hoarse, tusks bobbing up and down as he recovered from the Fury in an instant. "I haven't had my revenge yet, god damn it, don't you die now!"

Yawna winced and turned away from the scene. Gwyn likewise hung her head and shook it ruefully. The paladin was not loved by the group sure, but he had been a brave warrior and had defended Kat to his very last.

Var'Jun was the only one close enough to hear the paladin chuckle minutely. His dimming eyes stared at the troll's like that of a doll's but his voice was still the same.

"Is she all right?" he asked with a voice that gurgled with the blood gathering on his lip.

"She's fine, and that's why you have to keep fighting. I'm not done with you yet human." Var'Jun growled.

"You take good care of her," Malchior sputtered, "Take good care of her and live happily together." The paladin had a fit of coughing before he started speaking again. "I'm sorry for all the things that I did. I see now that maybe we are not so different, you and I. Watch over Katherine will you?" A dying rattle escaped the Malchior's frozen lips as his breath escaped him. The hands that had clutched Var'Jun's wrists dropped limp and the entire body settled down serenely. A smile was fixed on the human's face.

"God damn it!" Var'Jun screamed, throwing the corpse away from him and sobbing brokenly, "He never let me have my revenge! Never! Son of a bitch paladin!" The troll snarled, kicking at the corpse of a Murloc before slowly heading down the hill and starting his solitary way. Gwyn followed him and Yawna stayed behind a few minutes with Kat.

"He gave his life for me." Kat said softly, kneeling down to touch the paladin's cold face before letting a few tears wash away the blood on his face, "I never said goodbye."

"I know," Yawna wrapped a comforting arm around the human's shoulder as she rose. The tauren could still feel the knight's soul lingering over the battle field. It would be days before it went wherever souls went. Yawna had always felt them leave, but never felt to where.

"I wonder," Kat voiced softly as she watched the troll make his way up the knoll with Gwyn guarding behind him," What he said to Var'Jun."

"Ask him yourself." Yawna replied. She watched the mixture of emotions that played over the priestess's face at the mention of this. Her hands clenched and unclenched, still shaking brutally with sadness.

"You know what, I think Iwill." Yawna smiled as the priestess ran to catch up with the troll.

"Tell Gwyn we have the first watch!" Yawna called after her. The priestess voiced a reply and Yawna headed to the opposite hills surrounding the clearing with trees and brush. The sun was setting, a fiery red that should have been now cloaked with fat, bruised purple storm clouds. Their bellies hung thick with water and thunder rolled off the hills in great gulps as the rainstorm approached. Below her Yawna saw the bodies, thick blood of Murloc and human alike mingling in the grass and churned slowly to foul mud.

That day was truly one of blood and thunder.

* * *

Wow, would you look at that. And I finished it fairly early. Probably cause I left you with such a cliffhanger last time. Sorry about that. A few words on this chapter now: 

Malchior was a very hated character. Some people are going to be very happy because he is dead and I will tell you it's a load of Kat and Var'Jun's mind. But just think of him for a moment. Sure, he lived as an ass, but he died a hero. He defended Kat with his life and asked forgiveness of Var'Jun. He even accepted his and Kat's relationship. Sure, I hated Malchior, but I do look back on his death with remorse. He might have been a great man if he had fixed his mistakes sooner.


	18. A Child of Fire

Disclaimer: Warcraft: not mine. Microsoft Word: not mine. Level 23 in Warcraft: pnwed

A/N: Well here we are with the next installment of Raincaller. I tell you, this story puts me in between a rock and a hard place. I so badly want to keep going with it all the time but sometimes I have to work on my other story too. Choices, choices. Ugh. Anyhow, I'm still in school so updating less frequently is to be expected. **_But_** I am getting out of school in about three weeks… or two, I can't remember… and so then I might be able to update more regularly and often. So, on with the reader responses!

**Kyn**, thanks a bunch. Malchior was fun to write for (sometimes) while other times I just found myself royally annoyed with him. But he did make the right choice in the end and we can only hope that he was saved by it. Sorry, I don't write my own reviews so it's not my fault I have more reviews. I'll read your story too (been busy) and let you know what I think. Anyways, thank you very much. I love writing Raincaller and I've been thinking about sending it to Warcraft just to see what they would think about it. If I ever publish anything you all would be one of the firsts to know.

Wow **Crimson **you actually liked Malchior? Miracles never cease. Yes, he did die and that was rather sad. I made it unsuspecting so that it would hit people with a shocking result. Just what I was hoping for. It would be nice if he could have a second chance (he might have been a good guy) but people die, especially when their stomachs are removed. Such is life.

No **Dragoness, **a scorpid was not the cause of death. I had planned it earlier when I first introduced the Murloc so I couldn't. No, Kat was not further traumatized. Not only did I think that would mentally break her but she was no damsel in distress. She has power too.

Hopefully you will al like this chapter. Thanks to the people who reviewed but had no questions or comments for me to answer (or wrote a reviewing novel like **Kyn **did.)

And here we are again…. (70 reviews!)

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: A Child of Fire

Thralk was not happy. In the very least he was angry, but to tell the truth he simply furious. The undead chewed at his fingernails, his worry vented until the sharp tooth slipped and his finger oozed thick, blue-black blood. The undead cursed softly before turning to watch the battle again.

The Murloc were losing badly. Apart from the tribe that had escaped to the opposite shore (something that Thralk did not think their minds were capable of realizing) the battle was going quite badly for the Murloc. Thralk smiled as the wind carried the scent of terror to him. The undead summoner's mind was at total peace with the terror, it was the feeling that he had gotten earlier that was scaring him.

The undead had known that Yawna escaped from his clutches, but he had certainly believed that by now the pesky Tauren would have died. Yawna had seemed more than an annoyance than anything else to the summoner until only a few days ago when he had sensed the first upbringings of power from the huntress. She had gained the control over water. Thralk had long ago realized that the two Awareness would opposites, but he never believed it would be in such a drastic way.

Thralk controlled fire. Even as he sat on the crude chair of his tent he could sense the Demon Wolf lingering just outside his mind ready to be called at will. But water, water was a different thing. Fire was, if he could excuse the drama, almost powerless against water.

Thralk sighed. He could only hope to find the tauren mistress before things went horribly wrong. The prophecy was still there, of course, and his '_untainted victory'_ was still fresh in his mind. But the undead lord could only think of how many ways things could go terribly wrong. He was a worrier like that.

A burly undead general caught his attention as he entered the tent. Thralk rose, trying to make a powerful figure. The generals were rather unruly, as it went, and they might not want his leadership. But Thralk could handle them. He always did.

"Sir," This one was loyal, at least, "The Murloc are vanquished now. Shall we send our troops in." Thralk couldn't resist a smile. At least his plan left him guarded and safe.

"Yes, make sure _one_ lives. This must be made clear. One." Thralk eased himself back into his seat as the general went to prepare the troops. The humans would become so enraged with the undead if only one of their brave soldiers returned. They might even prepare for battle with the Undercity. That would cut a few of Thralk's steps out very nicely. The undead purred with pleasure, but stropped as he remembered Yawna.

"Soldier." he called, exiting his tent to find one of the many guards on duty. The undead battalion member stood stiffly in salute. Thralk was a feared but revered leader.

"I am leaving for a short amount of time. I'll be going North, not far into Elwynn Forest. At the dawn of the second day you can send me a troupe of two hundred men. If anything changes I will contact you." Thralk sneered as he saw the puzzled look on the soldiers face.

"What?"

"How will you contact us, Sir?" the soldier flinched. Rumor had it that if you looked into Thralk's eyes you went up in flames on the spot.

"I have my ways." Thralk slipped past the soldier and disappeared into the brush. The recruit shivered back as his leader left. Thralk was not one to be messed with.

* * *

Kat felt the cool breeze as the sun set. Var'Jun had finally stopped walking, his fevered pace stopped and now resting beside him on a hill far from the battle and Yawna and Gwyn's comforting fire. The grass tickled her ankles and made her want to hurry and race but she decided against this. Var'Jun had resisted all her calls before but now he seemed ready to talk.

"Var'Jun," Kat called softly before she approached the troll. She saw his back tense and the priestess sighed. She could feel herself failing as well and she knew what it was. The healing spell that she had used on Var'Jun was almost healed now. Though she did not posses the troll's unique ability to recover from serious injuries quickly she did have what her mother had always referred to as a the spell sleep, a deep sleep that followed a few days after a huge spell and would keep her incapacitated for a few hours.

Kat lowered herself down onto the cool grass beside the troll. The moon had risen deep and full that night like a serene glowing eye rested far above the world. In it's light she could see Var'Jun's face, his golden yellow eyes pinched at the corners from sorrow, his tusks glowing an earthy white, and his strands of lavender hair falling across his forehead and eyes. Kat took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of leather and life.

"Sorry for running," the troll did not turn to her, instead staring back into the eye of the moon, "I just needed to be away. From the battleground and the corpses and the smell of death that seems to follow me wherever I go."

"It's not your fault." Kat tried to reason, "Malchior made his own choice. I would rather he had lived and I had died if the guilt would lessen. But it's not your fault."

The troll turned to look at her now. Kat could see the thought and pain running through his eyes but he spoke with a level voice and a smooth tone.

"Malchior, he and I never shared any love between us. But he changed right before he died. He knew his right and wrong then, and only really then. If only I had gotten there a little sooner than none might have died. I almost feel like Yawna somehow. I want the fighting to stop."

Kat was about to speak when she was suddenly enveloped in the troll's warm embrace. Contrary to when Malchior had held her Kat was not afraid or tense. She could sense no further pursuit than just the trolls need to have her close. Kat relaxed in his grip.

"The fighting between us, so stupid, but even though it was unjust I still can't regret it. Fighting over love, maybe it was wrong but I wouldn't fix it. Ever." The troll sighed, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Fighting over love?" Kat felt as if she were floating in clouds. So light and smooth.

"Yours." Var'Jun seemed to barely be able to whisper this but he got it out anyways. His voice was soft and calm, his breath warm against her neck and shoulder. Kay could feel the light pressure of his tusks against her shoulder.

"Mine?" Kat's heart fluttered, skipping a beat and pausing as she felt the troll's grip tighten. He raised his head from her shoulder to look the priestess steadily in the eye. His golden eyes were hooded with contentment and he nodded as if unable to produce worlds.

"Oh," it was more a sound than a word because Kat was quite unable to string together any syllables at that point. She blinked as the troll's smile widened. He was looking quite pleased with himself now, chuckling softly. Kat suddenly wanted to be close to those eyes, to feel that breath on her face instead of her neck.

Var'Jun paused as he saw the priestess's face draw closer. His mouth dried and at the expectation he could feel himself tense and ready. But as the priestess's face hovered between his tusks, her lips parted in a mouth partially open with the same expectation, the troll found his own mind spit forth scenarios.

"Listen," Var'Jun grasped the human's shoulders, his eyes now glowing with sadness and regret, "Is this really what you want. For gods' sake I'm a troll, and no less the Prince of the Darkspear tribe. Whomever I marry is queen of trolls. And your own people, your old friends-"

"Shhh," Kat pressed a slender finger to his lips before he could speak any further, "This is more than I want. More than anyone could want." She took her finger away and drew the troll's face close to hers.

The first kiss was chaste and worrisome as if Var'Jun were holding back. The troll's muscles were tense and though he was excited his mind was still full of guilt. Kat giggled softly, purring smoothly, "Don't hide from me."

Var'Jun grew closer and under the watchful eye of the glowing moon the two joined together, much longer this time. If the moon could have called out a warning she would have, for this was one of the first in a series of events that would shatter Azeroth like a splintered tree.

* * *

On the opposite side of the once-battle Yawna smiled with delight. "You owe me five copper Gwyneth." the huntress remarked. She took another large bite of the dried fruit that was left from the nights pillaging. Gwyn had gone to the battlefield for supplies, Yawna waiting at the edge of a land that caused her so much pain.

"You cheater. You can sense his emotions. You knew he was going to kiss her just as well as you knew she wasn't going to push away." Gwyn's eyes smiled as she looked at the couple farther away on the hill. Those two deserved this.

"You are an oracle," Yawna sniffed, "You're supposed to see the future. Frankly I think you saw this even beforehand and you never told anyone. None of us have five copper as it is anyways."

Gwyn shrugged, "I've seen a great many things. I did see this, but it could be any full moon night and besides, the future is definitely able to be altered. Money is no object anyhow." The pair nodded, Yawna reaching down to pet Weary Traveler where he usually sat at her knees. The wolf was not there, however, and the huntress looked down with thought.

"Wonder where that dog went to." she remarked, looking around. "Oop, here comes Var'Jun. Wonder why he's carrying her."

Sure enough the troll warrior was cresting the hill the pair were on. In his arms he was tenderly supporting Kat, the woman collapsed in his arms. The troll's hands were supporting her back and the crook of her knees and he slowly lowered onto one of the already-spread bedrolls.

"She passed out." Var'Jun explained, his face warm and soft as he watched the rise and fall of the priestess's breath, "I suppose you two were watching, you nosy peepers. I thought I made her feint at first, but then I remembered her once mentioning a deep sleep that comes without warning after long spells. She's so funny sometimes."

"You look pleased with yourself," Gwyn handed him a bowl of soup, throwing in meat from a separate helmet turned pot over the fire. The troll took it with a whetted appetite, his shoulders hunched as he shoveled the food down."

"I'm taking first watch." He replied in between bites, "I can do with it. Still coming down from Fury anyhow. You girls can sleep."

Gwyn snorted as she pulled a bed roll over to her, "I catch you doing anything untoward to that girl and I'll have your hands in a bottle."

"I'd rather get my hands on a bottle thank you. Nice, swimming ale the color of a sunset." the troll closed his eyes in ecstasy, pleasure written over his features.

Yawna fell asleep with a warm feeling. Everything was going to be all right.

* * *

_Everything was on fire. Yawna could see it burning, like time had slowed down and allowed only her to stand while the rest flailed. She could tell it was a dream, just by how fuzzy and silent it seemed. Yawna had always been lucid in her dreams. But this time was worse._

_Children were screaming with silent, open mouths that yawned over the flames and boiled away. The entire country side seemed to have gone up, the trees moaning as they fell like people cut from their roots. No, maybe it was the other way around. Maybe._

_A figure slipped from the fire's hungry mouth. It rose slowly, like a phoenix borne from the flames. When the smoke cleared from it's view Yawna could see the undead summoner who's image still haunted her dreams. Thralk smiled, a glittering thing full of teeth and malice. His voice was smooth and silky when he spoke, his words coated in milk that had gone bad._

"_My Yawna, how you are so very illusive. But I finally found you." Thralk chuckled as he saw the tauren reach for her axe, "Are you going to kill me Yawna? Are you? I doubt it, you can barely be near anyone in pain lest take someone's life with your own hand."_

"_It makes me a stronger person than you." Yawna replied quickly, her hand limp at her side. She knew she couldn't kill Thralk. She knew she couldn't kill anyone. She might die even trying. But she assured herself this was not a weakness._

"_Is that what your mother told you?" Thralk demanded, "Or maybe that's what dear old Two-Moons told you. He always was an old fool. But let me let you in on a little secret Yawna. It was not a fire or an Alliance member who killed Two-Moons but I. I killed your mentor as well as commanded the Demon Wolf to light fire to your village."_

"_No," Yawna cried out, "I'll kill you. I'll kill you." She leapt at the spirit but it was already too late. The dream dissolved around her accompanied by her mother's voice._

"_Wake up Yawna, Wake up…"

* * *

_

"Wake up Yawna! Wake up!" Yawna snorted and started up, her entire body tensed and ready to fight as the effects of the dream made her hair stand on end. Kat's worried face loomed over her. The priestess now had lively color back in her cheeks, her hazel eyes bright and shining but now worried and slightly amused.

"You were dreaming."

"So I surmised." Yawna rolled over and stood slowly. The first thing she noticed was that Gwyn was already up, Var'Jun not long behind her as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The second thing was Weary Traveler. The wolf was back, burs clinging to his fur and the remains of a quick breakfast in front of him.

"I woke up a bit early because I slept so deeply." Kat put in, smiling cheerfully at the troll as he rolled his sleeping bag up with clumsy and slow movements. Var'Jun was not a morning person.

"You're not rolling that tightly enough." Kat called to him, kneeling beside the troll and helping him with his morning blues. The troll grunted a thanks, his eyes narrowed as they stared at the ground. Yawna had never seen Var'Jun shy. It was interesting to watch.

"I need beer." the troll remarked, his sigh longing, "Just one bottle. Even a cup. Anything. It's been a long time since I've drunk."

"And that's good." Kat growled, "Your chronic drinking is going to get you in trouble. Besides, you have no reason to drink any time before noon."

"Ugh," Var'Jun sniffed, "You oppressive little Murloc." He dodged a half-hearted swat from Kat and danced around her before circling back on the group. His light mood seemed to have returned to him as had Kat's. It might even have been a fresh start for all the group.

"Still headed North?" Gwyn asked, "The Undercity is a _long_ ways away. You know that, right?"

"Of course," Yawna replied, "To both your questions that answer applied."

"And what do you plan to do when we get there." Yawna faltered as Gwyn asked this. She had a basic outline in her head but even that seemed strange in her own mind. What's more it was dangerous, super dangerous that was. The only way to make it work would be distracting the Abominables and from the tales Yawna had heard of them she had no eagerness to do that.

"You'll see." She chose to reply with instead. Gwyn just shrugged, the camp cleaned and ready, and started off for the northern horizon.

* * *

"It's another Murloc camp. Please say we can finally rest." Var'Jun put as he raced back. He had been scouting ahead, the prospect of hostile humans and other things always a threat. Kat's face lit up as he returned, her hands which had been clasped tightly in anxiety now loosened. Relief was written on her face.

Most of the day was traveling. The group had only stopped for short breaks, the prospect of the long journey ahead hitting home when realizing that they hadn't even left the forest yet. Most of it had been talks of home, bickering between Kat and Var'Jun, and the occasional traveling song struck up. Only Gwyn and Kat could keep steady notes with Yawna and Var'Jun's baritone yanking the group down an octave and sounding off key. Yawna couldn't sing well in common at all and all Var'Jun could usually manage for common singing was a bar shanty.

"You sure it's not an ambush?" Yawna asked the occupied troll. The warrior had become quickly distracted by Kat, his bright yellow eyes sparkling as he watched her. "Var'Jun!"

The troll quickly snapped out of it, Kat's face blushing a deep crimson color.

"Right… I mean no. If they were going to ambush us the most strategist place would have been in the last Murloc camp we passed because it was open. And really the last one and the last one. It's fine here. And these ones had built structures so there's no tents."

"Fine, fine, fine," Yawna replied, "You pest. Go ahead, set up a camp. I'm just as tired as you all are." Yawna smiled, however, as Var'Jun laced his fingers in Kat's quickly and went running off towards the camp with her before she even had time to realize what was going on.

That morning the two had gone out to bury Malchior. Var'Jun used a broken broad sword as a shovel, burying the paladin where he had fallen and pushing the fallen knight's sword into the ground at the head of the grave. Kat had come back depressed and Var'Jun hadn't been much better. The mood had luckily lightened since then.

"Spending a little time alone, I wonder?" Gwyn remarked softly. She too was ripped from her prior grimness and was now as haughtily light as ever.

"I don't think so. Every, muscle in that troll's body is radiating eagerness but he doesn't want to rush her. Kat's been a bit jumpy. Remember the night we got out of Thralk's battle camp? She was really horrified then, no inch of her wanted any contact at all. I think something happened, the two aren't telling though. And I'm not pushing it. Whatever it is it was a delicate subject."

Gwyn nodded. "I noticed that, but then again I don't have the Awareness. I didn't want to say anything lest it might have been an argument between her and Malchior or her and Var'Jun. If it's a touchy subject there's no use irritating it."

The two arrived only shortly after Kat and Var'Jun. The pair were standing sadly side by side, Kat gripping Var'Jun's arm and the brave troll staring off sideways so he wouldn't have to look forward.

"I didn't go this far into the village before coming back. I didn't see this." The troll shook his head, looking down at Kat now and drawing an arm over her. "Don't look."

Yawna could sense the death already. She stepped past the figures of the troll and human to look at what had spooked them. Spooked wasn't quite the word now because Yawna knew that spooked applied to being startled. Yawna wasn't startled, she was just plain sickened. Before her was a pile of _flesh_. That was the only world that Yawna could find for it. It was not a pile of bodies or even a pile of a certain body part, just pieces. All Murloc and human there were arms and legs and heads and smaller bits like just toes and fingers. Some pieces weren't even identifiable anymore, just lumps of sinew and blood. The entire area reeked of death, the caustic smell like a cutting knife.

"My god." Gwyn whispered, "Who in the blue hell would stack all the body parts. Or shred them, for that matter. There's Murloc and Human there, not just one or the other. What side would stack them?"

"Do you smell that?" Kat demanded suddenly. She blinked, letting go of Var'Jun's arm to sniff the air and step over a few stray arms to get there. "It's weird. I smell something strange. Anyone else?"

Yawna too tested the air. Immediately the smell sprang out at her through the mist of the smell of the dead. It was a cutting smell as well, but this one was far more dangerous than bodies that were dead and could do no more to you.

"Fuel," she spit, "The kind goblins use in their machines."

"Bingo." Yawna barely had time to cry out a warning before she saw the Demon Wolf. The creature reared it's ugly head from the bushes, Thralk standing just below the slavering jaws that were already dripping liquid flame and lighting lines of fuel that Yawna had taken for water. The lines of fire spread, the roaring flames spreading a rift in between Yawna and he friends.

Gwyn disappeared behind a wall of fire that leapt and sprang on it's own. Var'Jun and Kat were forced to spring back as a similar barricade rose and blocked them from Yawna and the night elf. The only form left that Yawna could see was Thralk.

The Demon Wolf pounded through the flames, what was left of it's bony paws leaving deep marks in the ground. Thralk smiled maliciously as his creation flew out of sight on it's way to light more of the city. Behind Yawna she heard the bodies bake and sizzle.

"Bastard," Yawna spit mordantly.

"Yes," Thralk lazily let the fire travel up and down the bones that were his arms. "You're most likely right. I didn't have a father or mother. I was nothing. But now I am something."

"No," Yawna tried desperately to summon her powers. Water, that was what she needed. Water so calm and cooling that would soothe the flames and her biting heart.

"I who killed the people of your village, your mother, your mentor, the tauren that would have been your lover. I who will kill your friends and your hopes and your dreams. I who will kill you. I am everything and nothing maybe, but I will soon be the only thing." Thralk took a step forwards, the fire ran down his hand and cut a burning scar over Yawna's arm.

"Where is your mother now, your mentor, your lover? Where is your father, who abandoned your mother in her time of need. He knew of your power and he wanted nothing to do with it. He apparently would rather die." Thralk was close by the tauren now. He could see her struggle to reach the power that was hidden in her but could not be tapped.

"No!"

"It's true. All true." Thralk smiled, "Are you going to bring forth the power of water Yawna? Are you going to kill me? You couldn't do so in your dreams, literally of course, what makes you think you can do it here?"

"I can. I will."

"No you can't." Thralk circled the tauren, "I could be your father you know. You're mentor. Granted, not your lover. I daresay not. But I could get you one easily. This is not some anticlimactic 'come to the evil side' Yawna. This is 'come to the powerful side.' You can't run forever. I could help you. Tap that power inside and you could be great."

The prospect was a rich one. Yawna could taste it on her tongue, the riches that could be held. She could rule with force and with supremacy divine. Azeroth could be hers for the taking.

But then she remembered all the dead. Bolo whom she had so cared for. Her mother who had always been there for her. Her father who had risked his life to save her and died in the process. Her mentor, Two-Moons, who had died at the sword of the summoner. Malchior, who could have been a great man if only he had realized sooner or lived longer. And all the children, all the dead children…

"Never."

"Then burn." Thralk growled, "Burn in hell and regret what you could have had." With a flick of his fingers the fire sprang forth to engulf the tauren. At that moment Thralk had an even better idea. His smile twisted.

"No, I think the Demon Wolf can deal with you."

* * *

Var'Jun screamed. Every bit of him was on fire. He could feel it seeping through his skin. Kat had long ago been separated from him as a new wave of fire had come forth to continue burning.

The troll collapsed on the ground. His mind whirred and clicked, buzzing out on him before he had a chance to retrieve it. The troll wanted to blank out, wanted to escape the pain and allow the death to sweep over him but he couldn't. Not without Kat and the others…

'_They're dead.'_ His mind told him, '_All dead. You have nothing to live for.'_

Var'Jun managed to nod. There was nothing left for him. The troll closed his eyes…

… And opened them for what seemed to be only a few minutes past. He faltered, his skin on fire. Around him it was quite, no roar of flames or rearing holocaust that would have burnt through his mind and made him weep.

Only the smell of soot. Var'Jun sniffed and managed to stand after what seemed like an eternity of work. He wavered slightly, taking off his sword with more effort than it usually took to run ten miles without stopping. He used the weapon as a cane almost, supporting himself with effort.

"Kat?" his voice was scratchy. All he could see around him was soot and ruins. Black edges of houses and charred remains of what he couldn't tell might have been the pile of bodies or might have been his friends. "Yawna? Gwyn?"

The troll grew frantic, "**Kat? Yawna? Gwyn?**" He suddenly couldn't breathe. The troll sank back to his knees, his body shivering all over. He was sobbing, quietly at first until it grew in intensity and turned into a fit of sobs and chokes that rendered him helpless. All he could do was cradle his face in his hands and cry.

After hours the troll was silent. His body could no longer handle the weeping. He could only raise himself onto his feet again, eyes taking in the scene of destruction. He couldn't handle it. Yawna was dead, Thralk had gotten his untainted victory. Gwyn was dead, she would never live to save her mother. And Kat… Kat was dead… How could she be? The troll couldn't fathom it.

He needed to run. The burnt figure stumbled away from the land of death. He couldn't stand being there. Not with them all dead.

"I should have died with them." he hissed miserably to himself.

* * *

Wowy, wow, wow! I apologize for the cliffhanger and realize that I am extremely evil. I, Jahna, have a dark gift. Yes, you may tell me how evil I am. Go ahead, and I apologize.

That was terrible to write, I'm very emotionally shocked. And it started so happy! Don't worry, this isn't even close to the last chapter so please stay tuned! Please. And look below for my official letter of apologies:

_I, Jahna, being of healthy mind and body, did write Chapter Eighteen of Raincaller with the knowledge that this constitutes the fact that a mob of doom might come to my house._

_Sorry ;_


	19. How the Mighty Have Fallen

Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft but I do own a bit of the manga they are coming out with. Hint: don't bother with it. It's crap.

Well here we are again. I still apologize for the last chapter. That was mean! So sorry, but I can't help myself sometimes. I have to get you guys back here somehow, otherwise I'd have to pay and as of late I am sadly _broke_.

**Geolord**, nice to see you finally reviewing. I've been on your favorite list for quite some time now but you haven't left one until next chapter. Heh, I know where you live. Sounds strange, doesn't it? The answer to your question is yes, I usually do get a lot of my material from Warcraft because I want it to fit nicely with the game. That's the point of fan fiction anyways, isn't it? Heh, just be lucky Var'Jun punched you instead of going all medieval on your ass with his huge sword.

'Lo again **Crimson **can't keep you away for long, can I? Guess not. Funny to see all the points of my characters put into their pleas of not dying. Did you have fun at your sleep over, I always love those things. Thank you so much for your compliments. Yes, Gwyn can be a little bossy can't she. I think it comes with being a night elf.

Oh dear **Azure** is mad at me. .:furious typing:. Don't kill me! Ugh, masochist (are you aware of the other definition of that word? Look it up, you might not want to use it so much ;) is such a strong word. I prefer to be known as the valiant crusader myself. DRAMA!

'Lo **Youkai. **I bet you're happy you got out of school It's a drag. .:bewares angry mob:. I'm writing, I'm writing! Shoot, I knew it was Abominations. Stupid words that sound all alike and stuff. SNOWMEN! I felt Malchior's last part was a little forced too but hey, we all have epiphanies before we die, eh? .:wouldn't know:. Thankies.

Wow, scary **Samus**? I didn't think it was scary, creepy if anything and a little foreboding but scary. I guess I'm effective.

And to **Kage,** it's always good to see new readers who give me such sweet reviews.

Onwards now! Thanks everyone (80+ reviews!)….

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: How the Mighty Have Fallen

The prince could be seen standing by the window at least once a day everyday. His face was always troubled then too, sometimes brooding other times just looking infinitely sad. The Darkspear tribe had always supported Meh'rah but her son was said to be sick in the head.

"He misses his mother." some said.

"He has a head illness," other more pessimistic types said.

Neither side knew they were wrong. No one would have ever guessed the prince missed those in the past and longed for a future he could have spent with them.

Var'Jun sighed, two years of thought escaping his lips as it always did. Two years since the terrible fire that devastated the friendship he had made, severed the bonds that he had worked so hard to keep because they meant so much to them. Two years since he had fled from the flames and was found later by a lucky troll troupe out on rounds around Elwynn in search of the latest reports of Murloc migrations.

Two years was a long time. Var'Jun could remember a time when his heart would skip a beat thinking of how long life could be and how beautiful. Now his heart skipped a beat again thinking of how long life would be and how hard it would prove to be to survive with the thoughts of his own happiness in mind.

"Why don't you ever smile?" The voice was a harsh grating one. Var'Jun folded his ears back against the noise of that voice and turned his head slightly so that one eye could focus in on it's possessor. He winced back a slight cough, turning to the troll behind him.

"Crota, I smile. You know I smile." Var'Jun smiled then, something hollow and terrible to watch. It was as if his face would split apart and crack with the brutality shown to him by life.

"No you don't Your mouth smiles with sharp and curling teeth and your eyes hold no warmth. You smiled back at Thunderbluff when I encountered you for the first time in years. Why don't you smile like that now. You commanded I go back to my homeland. I did. You commanded I wait for you. I did. You promised you'd return. You did. Now smile like you mean it." Crota's face was pinched. She narrowed her leering orange eyes at the worn male before her.

"I never told you to wait for me." Var'Jun said softly. He couldn't think of a way to back out of this. He couldn't smile anymore anyhow. His smile was broken. _They_ had took it with them when they died in the fire.

"You did. I swear it. Smile, smile like you mean it. It's not fair that I am your bride-to-be and you won't smile for me." Crota took a menacing step forth. Var'Jun took an involuntary step backwards. This type of situation had happened many times before.

"Crota please. I miss my mother, fear for my kingdom. I can't smile." Var'Jun turned his head away as Crota's hand came up to caress the jaw line of his face. His breath quickened suddenly, pupils narrowed to mere dots on the golden expanse of his irises.

"Why do you fear me?" Crota asked sweetly as she cupped his chin in her hand. Her voice was soft but her eyes were hard and icy.

"I don't."

"You don't?" Crota's grip around his chin suddenly tightened and painful twisted so that the warrior's mouth was forced open. A little cry of pain escaped the prince's lips.

"How dare you lie to me?" Crota seethed, " Lie straight to my face will you?" She squeezed harder and let go with a snap that caused Var'Jun to bite his tongue. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

Two years ago Var'Jun would have bit back with choice words of his own. He might have even struck the troll if it really came to it. But now his heart was so bitter that he just sat and took the pain. It washed away eventually anyways.

"I'm not lying. Please-"

"Shut up," The next blow was a hard right to his cheek. Var'Jun didn't bother to prevent the fall. He only braced himself as the blow struck him sideways and down.

Var'Jun couldn't fight back. It was his fault Crota beat him. He had once thought he could get used to her ranting, take it with a feeling of masochism and pretend to enjoy the abuse. But the troll had long back learned that Crota taught her lesson with a hard hand.

"Maybe it was that group you were with, eh? Maybe you found someone other than me there. The tauren Var'Jun? Was it her? How could you have?" Crota paused, her eyes opened wide, "Or maybe the human Var'Jun. She was a pretty little thing."

Nothing could have been closer to the truth. Var'Jun closed his eyes and listened with dread as Crota's voice raised to an angry shriek.

He felt her foot connect with his stomach and anguish blossomed from the blow. Var'Jun laid still as Crota punctuated her measured kicks with the words 'smile' screaming from her lips. Her voice was hard and icy as her eyes were.

Finally Crota stopped. His fiancé was satisfied that Var'Jun had been punished enough and he heard her exit the tower's chamber in the form of a rusty hinge's squeal. The silence of the room rang in Var'Jun's ears and for a while all he could concentrate on was the flow of blood from his lip and the thoughts running through his head.

When Var'Jun had returned to the Darkspear's provision camp near Trisfal Crota had been there. Var'Jun didn't know how she ended up there or even why she claimed this was her homeland. All he knew was that she was there and that was that. There were no questions asked.

She was the one who had imposed the marriage. Var'Jun was perfectly content to spend his miserable existence alone anyhow. Most everything he loved had been stolen away from him anyhow. But he had realized that the interests of his people were to be put in the hands of a king and not a prince. Crota would have to make him such a king.

But Crota wanted more than Var'Jun could give. She wanted passion where Var'Jun knew his had died along with Kat. She wanted communication where his had followed Yawna, Gwyn, and the priestess into the flames. There was nothing the troll could give her now but unrequited love.

Var'Jun picked himself off the floor. He raised on weak legs and sighed before straightening himself. His old clothes had been replaced with feathery adornments of leather that traditional troll rulers wore. Var'Jun was not at home in his own skin.

The troll was about to exit the tower for a good drink but was interrupted. Two trolls were making their way down the hall he was currently tumbling down. Both had fiery manes of red, though otherwise they were totally different.

Gar'Ihn and Mitka had been married for a year now. They were currently residing in the tower along with Var'Jun and other select guards. The royals' finest. They were a happy couple, constantly bickering as troll couples often do in that affectionate sort of annoyance. Var'Jun longed for Kat when they were around.

"She's been hitting you again." Mitka snarled bluntly with redemption. As if telling Var'Jun of his abuse would make it all better. Var'Jun already knew what was happening to him though. He was just to heartsick to fight back.

"Why do you let her do that?" Gar'Ihn demanded as the couple steered their prince into a room the adjoined the long hall. It was comfy, one of the only rooms in the tower where Var'Jun could feel slightly at ease. Crota hated this room and did not come in. She claimed it was haunted by a vengeful spirit. Var'Jun couldn't doubt it. There was often snarling heard from the area.

"Because it's my fault." Var'Jun spit, "I can't return her love. The least I can do is take her abuse." The troll seated himself heavily on a chair of skins and blankets. It was exotic, from the troll's homeland before their tribe was exiled. It was comfortable.

"Don't be stupid." Gar'Ihn snorted, "What about when you had that crush on me and I told you off good. What was that? I couldn't return your damn love and I certainly wasn't going to take any abuse from you."

Mitka gave a soft warning growl, standing behind Gar'Ihn's chair he draped a protective arm across her shoulder. Var'Jun blushed and laughed nervously.

"Just a passing fancy Gar. Nothing for you now but friendship. Don't you worry Mitka." The warrior prince shook his head again, "But it's my fault anyhow. I can't blame her for wanting to hit me."

Mitka snorted softly. He wanted to hit Var'Jun himself now because of how stupid he was being. When they were young the two trolls were rivals but had now grown to be good friends. In the best interest of his friend Mitka felt he deserved a good hit, but not one from Crota. The punishments from Crota were breaking the once great troll.

"She's right though. You never smile anymore." Mitka and Gar'Ihn were obviously listening in. Once Mitka had tried to stop Crota from one of her anger induced rampages. He had ended up with a black eye and charges of violence against a royal personnel. It was lucky Var'Jun had been able to bail him out.

"How am I supposed to. I mean, you and Gar are one thing, Mitka. But I have a whole kingdom on m back as well as the fact that Crota and I are to be married _tomorrow _and that's going to bind me to her for life. And… and…. I…"

"You miss them don't you?" Gar'Ihn queried softly. "That group that you lost. And maybe you miss _her_ too. You liked her, I know it."

Var'Jun had never directly told Mitka or Gar'Ihn of Kat or the others but he has a funny feeling she had already guessed there was someone. She had, after all, guessed the first time he had come back to the kingdom that there was someone. The troll could remember he exact words.

"Draw close to ones you love."

"I miss them." He admitted, "We promised to vanquish Thralk, them and I. Now what do we have? Nothing, and Thralk has everything. The only reason the trolls can hide here is because Thralk fears invading his own homeland in thought that his men will rebel. He won't wait forever."

"Do you still have hope they live?" Mitka asked this time. His eyes were narrowed to small slits as if he couldn't stand what the answer would be. Var'Jun wondered which one he would have favored.

"Yes. By some miracle of chance they may still be there for me."

"What if I could tell you that one might be alive. Remember when you described them to us? Well we found a tauren matching the description you gave." Gar'Ihn pulled a sheaf of paper from her robe, "A white tauren with black spots. She has one broken horn, few burns, and is a hunter. She was wandering in the woods for a while, neighboring places were said to have seen her though no cattle or stock animals disappeared. The occasional excess vegetables and fruits from farms, but nothing much. Supposedly living off the fat of the land. She was crazed though, muttering a poem all the time."

Var'Jun whispered under his breath along with Gar'Ihn as she read the letter. The two voices matched in word for word unison:

"'_Bonds of friendship must be made_

_In order to disprove what lies have been laid._

_Where forces of hatred do conspire,_

_Only rain can quench the fire.'"_

"'_Scars of past in tattered hope,_

_Twin Awareness, tight walk rope._

_Light and dark. Blood and fire._

_See the blindness through the mire._'"

"'_Only when Light doth pass,_

_Through the blindness rain does mass_

_Darkness wary eye does see,_

_Untainted victory.'"_

"Yawna," Var'Jun said with soft disbelief under his breath.

"This was a pigeon that we intercepted from the undead camps. It was a note sent to Thralk and would not have reached him until today. However, since it took the messenger two days to get here they have probably sent out another a day afterwards. The undead always do that. Which means that you have about two days to get your friend out of there."

"What's the catch. You know I could sneak in without force. I'm a horde member. There's a hook, isn't there?"

"Oh and what a hook it is." Mitka growled, "Thralk's armies have separated themselves from the Horde. They say they are a new side, calling themselves the Holocaust and claiming that everyone owes them tribute. If you go in there it will be under the guise that you are paying the Holocaust homage."

"Ugh," Var'Jun buried his face in his hands, "My head hurts. I need alcohol." This statement would have usually been greeted with a wince. Var'Jun was a heavy drinker before, sure. But it took quite a lot to make a troll drunk, especially this one. But for the past two years Var'Jun had turned into a _heavy_ drinker. He was up to drowning his sorrows every night and waking up with severe hangovers.

But now Mitka and Gar'Ihn smiled. Var'Jun was almost his old self again. It was a severe improvement.

* * *

"Crota I need to talk to you." The would-be queen's eyes narrowed. The prince's eyes were unusually bright and his voice was strong and unwavering. It was not what she was used to and this sudden change made her sniff and fear what he would say next.

"Yes?" her voice dripped with false honey.

"I'm leaving. Tonight." Var'Jun had a steely tone to his voice. Crota first reacted with humor. She began to laugh, a high pitched noise. Her head bowed to the ground as she doubled over, still laughing while tossing her green braids.

"Don't be silly." Crota said with the same humor as she raised to see Var'Jun eyeing her quizzically. He was serious though. Crota's tone grew harsh. "You're not leaving."

"I am," Var'Jun growled back. His fists were clenched, "You don't own me Crota and will never. I am not marrying you. I'm sick of your abuse."

"There's another." Crota hissed dangerously.

"Maybe she's alive. Maybe she's not. But there's a chance. If one can live they all can live."

"Who?" Crota took a menacing step forwards.

"You guessed earlier. The human in the party I was traveling with." Crota snarled as Var'Jun nodded with an understanding look on his face.

"I'm sorry Crota, but I just can't forget any of them. Maybe they are alive, maybe not as I said before. But I have to know for sure. You're best to find someone else. I can't give you what you want."

The troll sprang forth. Her fist was about to connect with Var'Jun's when his own grabbed her wrist. She paused, waiting for him to stroke back or even bend her hand back on it's wrist. But he did not, however, only standing with her arm in a firm grasp. His eyes were closed, his face a picture of stern repose. For a long time no one moved.

"I'm leaving." Var'Jun repeated finally. He let go of the troll's hand and stalked away, his limber body wavering with the strength of someone with a heavy weight removed from their chest.

"I bet she wasn't happy." Mitka sniffed, his heavy hands slipping a harness over the glistening, scaled head of a Raptor. The red mount had been his mother's, a tame and gentle creature but a notorious fighter in battle. Var'Jun had been around the lizard since he was young and the creature felt perfectly at ease with the troll.

"You ready for a long journey, brothah?" Mitka asked in his heavy accent. He was a little more bold spoken than Var'Jun

"Sure am."

"Then go with the protection of your mother's spirit." Gar'Ihn said softly. It was a well known troll blessing, the spirits of the dead.

* * *

Yawna stared at the hard ground. Her life was not as happy as it had once been, but then again it could be much worse.

Yawna looked up quickly. There were sounds coming towards her cage, innocent sounds of children playing and talking. The tauren smiled as she saw them, the only remaining hope to what could soon be a peace.

There were three children, one human, one undead, and one troll. They were a happy trio, the female troll leveling the two boys out. Yawna felt a new warmth enter her as they approached. The children of camp often came to her for stories and guidance. When they lasted, that was.

"We came to say goodbye Yawna." The troll girl, Milla as Yawna had called her for she had forgotten her name, reached through the bars to pet the soft fur on Yawna's arm. Her face was bright and sunny but the two boys were looking more wistful and far away.

"Goodbye?" Yawna dreaded what she would hear next. Toni and Alfor, what she had called the two boys, couldn't meet her eyes. All the children in camp could not remember their parents or their names. Yawna was a mother to them, naming them and comforting them what she could through the steel bars.

"We've been chosen as sacrifice." Toni said softly. His teeth were clenched but when he looked at Yawna he smiled.

"No."

"Yes," Alfor affirmed, "They decided we've been trouble makers for too long. Thralk's coming here soon. He's offering us to the Demon Wolf." The children were so calm about this. They knew they were going to die, every one of them knew as soon as they came into the camp. But the horrors of their young minds were pushed away by some of the braver or more optimistic ones.

"Don't worry Mommy," Milla always called the tauren that, "You said we'd see a bright light and the gods would greet us. All of them." Milla smiled at the thought, her young face lit with joy. She was watching the sun.

"Run," Yawna said suddenly, "Run away from this place and save yourselves." The tauren's hand reached out to the youths. Milla grabbed it and held it to her face, Toni and Alfor clutching her other arm. The guard at Yawna's small prison stood stock still, blinking his own eyes against pain.

The guards fabled that you would be touched by the tauren in the cage. They spoke of how peaceful and serene she was. How she would soften you. The soldier had never believed it until now. He couldn't shoo the children away as he was supposed to. He just stood.

"How far we'd run," Toni said softly, "But we can't Yawna. Don't take it on yourself, it's not like you're responsible for Thralk."

* * *

Got to go! 


	20. How Quickly Time Flies

Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft but I did play in Warsong. That was a blast!

A/N: Right now it is not raining, I'm in an optimistic mood, and there's a turtle in my pool! Wow, that was totally random. If no one's figured out I'm to be out of school soon (two weeks and counting) so I'm in a great mood. And now on with the reviews!

Yes **Kage** it was quite a time jump wasn't it? Two years is a long time. And yes the story is still going. It has a lot more to go in fact.

Sorry **Reaper** I had to leave you hanging. How would I make you come back? Yep, Var'Jun had marriage plans with Crota half because he's sort of broken and half because he needs to be a king to lead his people. Yawna's side will be told too. That's good about your sleepover.

Hello **Ivoid **nice to see a new face with such helpful criticism. Yes, my plot seems predictable now, but oh you wait. Good to have a long time reader review. I often make typos because I'm dyslectic and have the tendency to switch my letters up a bit. I'm aware my grammar bites, I've told myself time and time again. Believe it or not I've gotten much better, and that's hard to imagine. I'm trying. Sorry about that, you'll have to bear with me. As for the prophecy, you might think it's predictable but you wait. There's much more in store for that. And, of course, it's not finished yet. There's another few parts. Writing rhyming prophecies is hard. -- I know they are wyverns in the wild but when you want a ride you click on the 'Wind Rider Master' I believe. Haven't flown in a while. That might be only World of Warcraft though.

**Geolord**, troupe can be spelled 'troop or the way I type it. I like it the British type way though. It makes me think of warriors more than the other which reminds me of soldiers.

Right then!

* * *

Chapter Twenty: How Quickly Time Flies

Yawna could feel her heart becoming cold. It had been only a few weeks since she had been captured, stark, raving mad and half starved in the woods. The tauren had no recollection of most of what had happened. Sometimes she would remember small snippets, tiny pieces of what had happened after the fire.

She knew she had awoken slowly, her mind clouded with ash and sorrow. But she was hardly burnt at all when she should have been, only a few patches of fur removed from her arms when her entire body should have been engulfed by the conflagration. Yawna couldn't figure out what had happened until she had tried to move.

The tauren was floating in water. It was a bubble of sorts, though rather a reverse bubble with water inside and air on the outside. The tauren was curled up inside of it like one would curl into a nest or bed. An actual air bubble was curled around her nose, something like a small tube of air leading outside the orb of water to give air to the huntress. The suspended globe of liquid, so alien and strange to the tauren, made her only want more and more to escape what seemed to her. Yawna remembered the anger of the fire. She had to know what happened to the others.

With only her will power the huntress managed to concentrate on the bubble and burst it, the cool liquid flowing over pieces of charcoal that floated on it like little boats on the ocean. The tauren had stood slowly, her clothes dripping and her heavy braided mane a black and wet heaviness at the back of her head.

Yawna couldn't bring herself to begin to walk across the charred village and search for what she was sure were the broken and burned bodies of her friends. Her Awareness was shot from producing enough strength to create the ball of water and keep herself inside without it evaporating in the heated fire. The tauren didn't think she could handle to see them, already death was clinging to the air. Yawna didn't know if it was the residual feelings of the long dead pile of Murloc bodies or the friends Yawna had been traveling with for days upon days. She didn't really want to know.

Yawna couldn't remember after that for a while. It was all a dizzy blur until she had stumbled upon a human town. She wasn't even sure which one or even if it was a full human town. They had driven her out forcefully anyhow though not as forcefully as most would have wanted. The town seemed to be recovering from a burning.

There was more blank memory from there. The tauren felt as if something deep was missing, something that would have changed her whole course of thought if only she had remembered it. But there was only the feeling of warmth, a honeyed light, and a soothing voice that she could never understand the words of.

From then Yawna only remembered being overpowered by the undead. She was sure they were Thralk's men for she could feel his influence in their minds. Thralk might not be consciously in their minds but he certainly had left his imprint.

Yawna had been regarded with much interest by the soldiers. She fit the description of what their master had said, a young tauren mistress with a black, cow-spot pattern and a broken horn. But unlike what Thralk had said of her being peaceful and calm was missing, she was mad and half starved so that when they found her she yelled and screamed.

But two days after the tauren had been placed in one of the pens in the center of camp (a number of other villains penned around her in similar cages) it was decided that Thralk had to know of the finding. Some were skeptical, if it was not Yawna then the squadron would suffer severe punishment. But if it was Yawna and Thralk was not alerted to the possibility then the punishment would be tripled or quadrupled or worse. Thralk was not a patient man.

So in present time the tauren was huddled protectively through the bars over the bodies of three children soon corpses.

"How far we'd run," Toni said softly, "But we can't Yawna. Don't take it on yourself, it's not like you're responsible for Thralk." The words bit into the tauren's heart as the human child uttered them, his grip needing and strong as he clutched Yawna's arm. It was her fault, she was responsible for Thralk in her own mind.

"Eh hem." The guard above the cage cleared his throat. Even after he did so he felt wrong. It was bad enough the tauren was so likable and peaceful now that she was sane again. But the children sacrificed every full moon to the wolf (twelve each round moon's eye) were of his own race as well. Undead were not spared Thralk's butchery.

The children looked up, fear suddenly lighted in their eyes. Yawna looked up too through the bars of her iron cage. The guard cringed away from that gaze so full of forgiveness and understanding. He couldn't stand the fear he installed in children much less the fact that the tauren actually forgave him for doing so.

"They're… not supposed to be here." It was simple and clear but the children still didn't seem to grasp this. They looked at him as if he were ripping them from the arms of their mother. Technically no, but to these orphans Yawna was the only mother they had and wanted.

Alfor, the undead boy, narrowed hate filled eyes at the soldier suddenly. He snarled, turning away from the soldier and burying his childish tears into Yawna's fur. The tauren shushed him with cooing remarks and sighed softly.

To the guard this was enough. Mekora had always wanted to be a savior to his people. The undead were his only priority, it seemed, but when Thralk came along promising glory for the pure undead and slipping his silky words into the minds of the Forsaken Mekora had gladly joined. To see a child look up at him with anything other than hapless adoration of a hero in his eyes was unbearable.

"Just a few minutes. I'm sticking out my neck here so be quiet about it." Mekora finally managed to snarl. Yawna nodded, whispering 'bless you' softly before turning back to the small charges.

"Mommy." Milla said softly, "We have to go if the soldier says so. We don't want to get you hurt." The two boys nodded in agreement. Alfor snorted though as if he couldn't stand the thought of the older undead above him as a soldier.

"Then be strong," Yawna drew them close one last time before letting them go, "You are far braver than I could ever be. Have hope for the future, my children. By some miracle of chance you'll live to see it."

When the children had tottered off Yawna sighed leaning back on her feet and sitting cross-legged on the cold floor of her iron cave. Mekora was at ease once more, the tension of worry settled as a knot in his back dripped down and away somewhere to wait till it was once more allowed to resurface.

"It's a shame, really." The tauren was crying, Mekora could hear it in her voice, "Why children? Why not the hardened soldiers, the waiting mothers, the strong leaders. Why kill children? They are the essence of innocence. They have sinned not to deserve death."

"I know what you mean." The soldier slowly slid down the side of the iron bars until his back was resting comfortably against the cage and his feet stretched out before him, "Did you see the way he looked at me."

"You'll forget soon," Yawna replied, "They always forget you know. Soldiers soon forget the thrashing battle, the dying men, and the screaming children. It is always replaced with the romance and heroism of war. Charging cavalry and the honor of returning home with the title of sergeant or colonel on your back, eh?"

"War is not romantic." Mekora spit as he shifted his spear so it sat across his lap. Behind him he heard the tauren huntress grunt an affirmation of this.

"What makes you so special anyhow?" Mekora suddenly demanded as he turned his face to the tauren. She looked taken back for a moment, her eyes haunted and her teeth clenches. Suddenly she smiled, her face lighted up with the warmth that this simple gesture seemed to produce.

"I can't see you killing any of Thralk's favored men or stealing goods. I can't imagine you killing anyone for that matter."

"No, no you probably can't because I never have." Yawna chuckled as Mekora's eyes widened, "Don't look so surprised. It's not always kill or be killed you know. No, I haven't upset Thralk through any violence. The truth is he fears me because we share the same power. His fear of me makes him believe he must kill me to become stronger."

"Same power?" Mekora requested.

"The power of knowledge." Yawna replied lifting her hand to the muddy ground, "Though we use ours very differently. Different as fire and water I'd say."

Mekora looked down at the tauren's hand in shock. From the ground underneath the tauren's fingers rose small muddy shapes. Soon the sand shifted to the bottom of them so that clear water could be seen. The water billowed out to take the form of tiny soldiers of opposing forces charging across a battle field and attacking each other with brutal force. As the water dissolved away Mekora finally managed to choke out words.

"You're a sorceress." he snorted finally, "Just a cheap trick."

"I wish," Yawna replied as she leaned back against the bars.

* * *

Var'Jun's throat was sore to say the very least of his riding ailments. Bruises and bumps were amongst the others. The Raptor had plowed across miles of land until at last the Wind Rider Master had shown up at the area around Trisfal Glades. The Raptor had to be left there as Var'Jun took the special Wyvern prepared for him to the borders of Elwynn forest.

After thanking the gracious orc for the use of his wyvern the troll was off again. It felt strange, this traveling lifestyle that he used to spend in the company of Gwyn, Kat, and Yawna now spent alone. It was no wonder the troll soon craved any sort of contact with a living being.

That was soon what he got.

Var'Jun sniffed the air, his nose testing the thick wind that smelt of vegetation, old water, and burnt wood. His nose cringed at the last smell that he sensed, the pungent smell of blood in large amounts.

"Sickening," Var'Jun mumbled to himself. His sword was already drawn, the broad blade shimmering and glittering in the half sun cloaked by the trees' shade. The troll sniffed the air again to test the direction of the wind and where the blood could be coming from. Determining the point the troll's path was set.

Var'Jun made his way through the forest in record time. He was moving quickly, taking no time to cover his tracks or cloak the noise he was making. Soon he hoped to reach the Holocaust campsite where he could work out his negotiations.

Var'Jun winced back as his heavy step produced a large crunching noise. The shard of whatever he had stepped upon pierced through his custom leather boots and almost drew blood from the troll's thick feet. This wasn't as startling as what the troll had stumbled upon though.

The warrior had entered a clearing of sorts. Dark, blackened soil was a hard coating over the ground and if there had been trees growing from it there wasn't anymore. The plants around were withered and dry from lack of water and exposure to extreme heat. The air was tinged with the caustic scent of burnt flesh. But what really worried Var'Jun were the bones.

Everywhere the skulls and spines and femurs of skeletons scattered the ebony ashes. They were not full sized skulls, but the grinning pates of young children. Some were those of undead youths while others were tauren or human or night elf, dwarf, gnome, troll, orcs. All had been burnt and scorched with some great conflagration and strewn about so that they peppered the dirt. Var'Jun had stumbled on one of the sacrificing grounds of the Holocaust.

Var'Jun fought back a bout of Fury that threatened to conceal him. He saw red for a few moments, the rouge light smothering his sight and bringing a growl hissing to his lips. But the troll steadied himself, it would be no help to lose control now.

As a prince of the Darkspear tribe he had been trained all his life to hold back the Fury when it was at its fullest. This was a minor attack, no one had succeeded in holding back a major attack of Fury. The only was to break a major attack of Fury was to stop all, to die. Most royals died that way.

"Gods help me." Var'Jun hissed before stepping through the burnt out area. His feet were measured so that his steps whisked around and away from the tiny, grinning skulls.

"You there," A new voice snarled. It was undead for sure, the obvious accent of the rotting mouth unable to curl around words meant to be spoken with full lips.

"Halt where you are and drop you sword."

Var'Jun did as complied. He was smiling like a banshee, his teeth glinting in the light of the hooded sun. His broad sword clunked to the ground and shattered a few skulls and spines. He couldn't help but wince at that.

"Hello brothah," polished as he was Var'Jun couldn't keep the troll accent from his speech in some parts, "Strange place, eh?"

"Quiet," this was a new voice announcing that this was probably a Holocaust patrol, "Don't move a muscle now because we have you targeted and we wouldn't want to lose a prisoner."

"Waita moment, brothah, just getting' sumtin' from meh pocket." Var'Jun heavily laced his words with the troll accent while putting on a goofy smile, "Meh muddah tells meh to wear thisa when in your here areas, eh?" The troll prince still wore his smile as he pulled the green-stoned ring from his pocket and slipped it on to a spidery finger.

"Now den, yous continue."

The undead smiled to each other. This was a troll, sure, a fiery warrior with cunning and swiftness to match the Raptors the rode. But this was one of the happy-go-lucky types of trolls. And what more, this was the prince of the Darkspear tribe. The undead had heard that the prince had run off to live as a vagabond away from the shame of his people, no wonder they had shamed him. The prince was the definition of the easy going troll.

"Raise your hands where we can see them." the lead of the patrol growled. It was only two undead on this patrol, one priest and one rogue. The priest was the brawn of the pair, his large muscles almost burst through the shirt he was wearing and his bulging arms were like coiled steel as his hands gripped the troll prince.

"No need tah be hasty now mahn. I ain't got nothin' on meh." Var'Jun retained his too-broad smile even after the undead priest wrenched his hands behind his back and forced the troll to straighten.

"Mekora, c'mere and hold him still while I search him." The priest snarled as the rogue came closer, aiming a well-placed kick at the undead's shins and thrusting Var'Jun's hands into the hapless soldiers.

"You go so slow." the priest growled while patting Var'Jun's leather vest for any concealed weapons. The troll caught Mekora, the unfortunate rogue, giving him a weird look and the lanky troll warrior stuck his tongue out at him.

"This is not something one man should be doing to another man." Var'Jun remarked placidly as the priest made his way down Var'Jun's waist and coursed his hands lightly over the troll's leather pants.

"Will you shut your mouth," the priest snapped as he look back at the troll, apparently satisfied that apart from the huge broad sword the troll carried nothing. "Otherwise I'm going to carve you a new one."

"But I'd be twice as loud, brothah." Var'Jun whined, his eyes suddenly hardened and Kolkua sprang into his mind, "No one likes bein' touched against their will bya undead scumbag, eh man?" The undead wrinkled his nose.

"You know more than you're letting on."

"Nope, justa walkin' here lookin' for Thralk and waddah yah know I got all sortsa undead around here touchin' me. Strange happenins for sure." Var'Jun sighed mellowly as the undead began to drag him towards their camp.

Once again the rogue was looking at him.

"What do you want, scum?" demanded Var'Jun in a hissing voice once he was sure he was out of the earshot of the priest. The rogue pulled backwards slightly as if stung.

"You look like someone once described to me." Mekora responded.

"Remember me, I'm going to rid myself of you soon enough." Var'Jun snorted to himself as the undead pulled away. There was no time for his fake accent to be layered over his polished tones. Var'Jun had a plan to complete.

* * *

"You two got any ale?" Var'Jun requested for what must have been the third or fourth time. He had been having a joyous time driving the poor nervous rogue and the high strung priest pretty close to insanity during the trek back to camp.

"Maybe he's be more manageable drunk." Mekora offered. The undead was looking almost sick to his stomach, his face pale and his hands shaking. Mekora had been nervous ever since he had left the guard duty of the captive tauren. It was like she was constantly accusing him without saying him, berating him for his cruel master's butchery and his will to follow it. It was really not the tauren doing it but her peaceable ways that made him feel so guilty.

"He's getting nothing." the ill-tempered priest, Ruka as his name turned out to be, turned around and once again kicked at the young rogue. "You'll never get promoted. You'll be a foot soldier forever."

Mekora said nothing to this if he had an answer. Instead he threw another look at the troll and then turned his face to the ground. The rogue's fascination with him made Var'Jun want to question him badly but was unable to. Ruka was always watching.

"Thralk's oracle is here." a foot soldier ran up to Ruka, the priest's eyes narrowing. He smiled gloatingly and Var'Jun was suddenly reminded of Kolkua

"Is she now?" Ruka ground his teeth and looked back at the rogue and warrior before turning to the foot soldier again.

"Tell the oracle I will meet her in the second rank tent in the third district. I'm brining a prisoner with me."

"C'mon mahn, I'm tried. Can't we get some good ale, yah? Then we meet up with the seer broad." Var'Jun was ignored rigidly by the priest though the troll grinned madly when he saw Ruka's shoulder twitch in an anger spasm.

"Shut up prisoner." Ruka snapped back at the troll finally before smoothly turning to the foot soldier and nodding.

The troll was once again dragged through the undead camp. Soldiers and cavalry poked their heads from tents to see the crazy triple. Mekora was cringing back as best he could while still holding Var'Jun's hands behind his back and steering the troll. Ruka had taken an easier route, completely ignoring the wacky troll. Yet he was failing miserably; Var'Jun had started to sing.

His songs were loud and full of talk of alcohol and 'the lanky troll women.' Var'Jun probably would have gotten a good smack from Kat with some of the lyrics his rowdy drinking songs included but right now he was content to make as much noise as possible to upset Ruka and Mekora.

"C'mon brothah, sing with me." Var'Jun chuckled as Mekora adamantly shook his head and continued to stare at the ground.

"You'd wanta get your claws inta troll women wouldn't you now brothah?" This made Mekora blush further and continue his fascination with the dirt.

Ruka had lost his patience. He turned quickly, a dagger immediately pressed to neck. The troll froze, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down and his breath shallow so that it would not expand his throat.

"Listen up, troll." Ruka spit, "I'd kill you right here and strip your body of all it's skin while you fell just so that I could laugh. But I'm not going to, you hear? And do you know why? When Thralk comes I'm going to demand he torture you in the fires that will do all my dirty work for me."

"Understood _sergeant_." Ruka blinked at the sarcasm. This troll was either very brave or very stupid.

"Are you all quite done," the voice was cool and crisp. It was a little different from what Var'Jun remembered, filled out and flowing a little more smoothly now. "I've been waiting patiently for quite a while now and with all this noise I'd say you were losing control of your forces. Thralk will be most displeased."

"Gwyn?" Var'Jun choked out.

* * *

That's all people. Why is Gwyn working for Thralk, how are they going to get Yawna out, and where exactly is Kat? All we be answered next time! 


	21. Torrent

Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft but if I did I think I'd be unfair. The Alliance would have to get a good ass whipping to start with followed by severe doses of drama and angst for all characters. BEWARE!

A/N: Again we are here on another beautiful New England day. I'm almost out of school, hooray! I only have finals this week. To all the people who have more school than that, good luck! And to those who have less, Darn you!

A word for the wise, if you want to read some other great stories you should check out **Kyn's **'MahiMahi' and Champion's Blood by **Blood and Honor**. They're both great. Have any stories you guys wrote and would like me to read? Tell me in the review you leave here.

**Kyn,** yah the loss of time was a huge jump .:dodges cleaver:. But I suppose it had to happen. You've pretty much hit the nail on the head, yay for you. I love your story, by the way, Have to read more of it soon.

You won't find the answer to your question till later **Dragoness**. I thought that this chapter was a tad lighter than the last, the last was just depressing. I think it's Var'Jun's driving the undead nuts that makes it funny. Poor Mekora, he's had it in for him ever since he guarded Yawna.

The possibilities are endless, aren't they **Reaper.** You won't find out what's going on till this chapter. It's a surprise!

**Geolord **.:points to genre:. Do you see action/adventure here? I can't always put in action silly, I have to have some explanatory parts. Besides, that action packed chapters have barely begun yet. This was almost like some kind of bizarre prelude/half of the story! And Crota is indeed psycho. She had 'problems.' Hah! I figured out who you were. I'm a good guesser, huh?

Thanks to **Samus, That Old Guy, **and** YnM **for reviewing too. Some of your reviews got cut off though. -- I think FF is having some tech difficulties.

Alright now, let's move on. And I just hit 95 reviews! Let's try and make it 100 by this chapter. I've never had 100 reviews! I'm out of school too!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Torrent

Ruka sniffed disdainfully and brought up his spear. "I said shut up. Don't address the oracle." Ruka brought the spear down with a quick smacking noise. It wasn't a very hard hit, the flat of the spear head would raise a welt where it has struck but surely a seasoned warrior such as Var'Jun could have taken it.

The troll yelped though, his feet skidding out from under him and his teeth gritted with pain. The spear had hit Var'Jun's side where a long time ago a certain deceased paladin had stabbed him and a priestess, missing and presumed dead, had healed him with most of her strength.

"Var'Jun." Gwyn stated this, not a question or query but a straight declaration. She had not recognized the troll before, the lanky creature who looked so disheveled and hopeless.

Var'Jun had filled out much more than the days of two years ago. He had gotten taller, is that was even possible, and far more wiry and lankier. His mane of violet hair had grown out a bit more, sticking out at crazy angle on the top of his head and was tailed by a thick braid that traveled down to the small of his back. His face had gotten more angular, filled out more and sketched over with a serious backdrop. She had not paid attention before, thinking never to see the troll alive again, but there was no mistaking the prince now.

"You know him?" Ruka stopped, his spear held leisurely and his eyes turned towards the oracle night elf now.

"Of course I know him." Gwyn replied nonchalantly as she leaned against the side of the tent nearby. She looked bored, "That's the Darkspear Prince. Of course, he's dead you know."

"We were not aware." Mekora answered this time. He was looking at Var'Jun strangely again but this time it was as if he had seen a ghost.

"I'm dead?" Var'Jun was ignored by all three of the people around him.

"We were not informed." Ruka began before he was quickly cut off my Gwyn.

"No, Thralk was going to tell you once he got here. But the trolls have been lying. Their prince is alive and well. Go tell your commander to send a notice to Thralk immediately."

"What do we do with him?" Mekora asked. Var'Jun could feel his hands, still tightly clenched around the troll's wrists, shaking violently. The undead rogue had severe anxiety problems.

"Let me take him," Gwyn replied viciously, "I'll pry answers out of him." The night elf chuckled as she pulled out a dagger and toyed with it thoughtfully.

Ruka looked like he was about to laugh but suddenly stopped. His face hardened, eyes glinting madly and his hand tightening over his spear.

"How can we trust you, elf?"

"I'm Thralk's oracle. It would be suicide not to." Gwyn gave the undead a malicious grin before moving to Mekora and taking the troll's wrists from the rogue. He looked as if a great burden had been lifted off of him and smiled.

When the undead smiled Var'Jun's heart fell. He had a youthful face, the smile that brightened when the undead was not plagued by what appeared to be guilt and fear. The undead could not have been much older than a child, he was youth in essence. Thralk was attracting the young undead to his army. That would breed generations of hate.

"Well, go on!" Gwyn growled, "And send a servant with two helpings worth of a fair lunch. Good wine too."

"Why feed him," Ruka demanded, "He's a prisoner, little more."

Gwyn chuckled as she forced the troll through the flap of the nearby tent.

"You'd be amazed at what people would tell you for a good meal."

* * *

Not more than fifteen minutes later Var'Jun was seated at a chipped travel table. He stared at the grains in the wood while still trying to struggle away at the bonds that fastened his wrists to the arm of the chair. His face was pulled into a grimace of anger, his teeth had bit his lip so hard that it was bleeding slightly.

Gwyn reentered the tent with her hands full of food. There were a number of different dried meats as well as loaves of bread, dried fruit, and a bottle of aged wine. The undead had done the best they could. It was all army shares, the type of food that a man could run on for days while traveling, but it was the type given to generals and sergeants and was the best the camp had to offer.

"Sonnuvabitch." Var'Jun snarled as he saw the elf. His eyes were tinted red and Gwyn took a step back nervously. She knew what royal power and lineage could produce in the troll's madness.

"Listen, please-"

"I thought you'd died. I pitied you, missed you god damnit. And now I see you've been working for that bastard Thralk, probably all along. Don't you care damnit?"

"You're right." Gwyn replied simply, "All of it's true. I don't deserve your pity, but don't think I'm going to give up on you now."

"What kind of bullshit are you feeding me now?" demanded the troll.

"Actually it's the type of stuff fit for the generals."

"That is _not_ funny." Var'Jun growled as he leaned back and away from the food Gwyn was setting on the table, "I was talking about the story that you're going to tell me, probably how you tried _so_ hard to resist Thralk but he was _so_ powerful."

"No," Gwyn replied simply, "I'm going to tell you that I have been working for Thralk for quite a long time now. One usually does what he wants when he's threatening their mother."

"Bullshit."

"I'm telling the truth." Gwyn snarled. Some of her old composure had returned and just as fast had disappeared. The angry and sometimes smug tinge entered her voice and she banged the table with a clenched fist, "You think you know so much Var'Jun."

"Prove it to me," The troll snapped back. He felt strange. Back when the two had traveled together in their group they would fight, but not like this. Pure spite retched from both mouths, time and Thralk's mad rampage causing the two to mistrust each other.

Gwyn quickly ripped the dagger from the place where it hung from a loose sheath attached the belt circling her robes. The blade sliced through air and rope as it severed the bonds that tied the furious troll to his chair.

"Run then," Gwyn hissed dangerously and Var'Jun saw the cat form that was a second skin to her flash across her face. "Run because you're scared Var'Jun."

The troll paused, his face hardened and constricted as he shuffled in his seat for a few seconds. Finally he sighed and looked past the elf's shoulder.

"I'll stay but it's going to cost you some of that wine." Var'Jun replied finally.

Gwyn sighed and popped open the bottle. The cork flew off against the tent wall as Gwyn snapped it with the dagger. Var'Jun sighed and deftly downed the entire glass poured to him before leaning back into his chair and mumbling.

"Hit me with the bad news captain."

"Yawna's alive," Gwyn replied with a smile as Var'Jun's chair tipped over and the troll toppled over onto his back, surprise sputtered in his lips. "And she's in this camp right now. We're going to get her out."

* * *

Mekora was gasping for breath by the time he reached the prisoners' cells. What the rogue was doing was more than dangerous, it was cruel and painful suicide. But for once in Mekora's pitiful life he was doing what he knew was right and the aftermath of this would be brutal but welcome. Mekora was sick of the army anyhow.

After quickly flashing the guards pass to the soldier on duty the rogue blasted past the other prisoners who threw insults and anger his way. The undead was focused on the very one prisoner who wasn't.

"Hello Mekora." Yawna said placidly as the undead, gasping for air and trying to sputter out the news he was relying, reached the steel cage that was her home. The tauren was braiding her wild mane into a thick coil.

"Yawna," the undead gasped out. He was watching the nearby prison warden with his usual haunted look, "They're here."

"Who?" Yawna handed him a bowl of water. Mekora blinked as he realized that it was the only one that she would get that day. He sniffed and pushed it away.

"Stop being so generous, there's no time." Mekora hissed softly to the tauren. She looked taken aback but said nothing otherwise. "The troll you were talking about, and the elf. They're both here."

"Gwyn and Var'Jun?" Yawna's eyes clouded over and began to well with tears. She clutched her hands and from the bowl of water in her hands sprung miniature figures of the two. Mekora blinked and watched as they stood still.

"Yes… Wait, what are those doing?" Mekora felt his spine tighten as a miniature figure of himself rose from the water. The elf and troll dissolved and as sinister figure rose behind his watery statue. It raised an axe and brought it down on the little water Mekora's back.

"Mekora," Yawna said very softly, "Thralk is coming."

The undead spluttered for a moment before looking around. The guards had all disappeared and camp was deadly silent. Mekora began to shiver as his nervousness took hold of his entire body.

"W-w-w-wait here." the rogue stuttered. One second he was there and the next he wasn't. Yawna blinked as the rogue was able to blend into the shadows.

Mekora appeared back not more than a minute later. He had obviously been to the warden's tent. The ring of keys jangled in his hands.

The undead has gone white and his face was pursed is nervous fashion. If he had looked dead before he looked positively ghostly now. He passed the keys from one hand to the other before wincing and starting to find the one that fit the lock on Yawna's cell. The other prisoners set up a howl.

Yawna heard the lock click just as she saw Thralk. He smiled maliciously before beckoning to the army of guards behind him and stepping forwards. Mekora was none the wiser, his smile cracking open his face with glee and writing pride across his features.

"Look Yawna, I'm-"

Yawna never found out what Mekora was. Neither did she have time to warn him before Thralk grabbed an axe from a guard nearby and brought it down with a sickening crack on the undead's back.

Yawna sat in stunned silence for a moment before she stood quickly and forced the door of her cell open. The hinges creaked as they pushed against the body of Mekora. Yawna scooped him up easily, the young undead's weight a sinful burden in her arms.

"Thralk."

"Yep," Thralk smiled almost lazily and leaned on the axe, "Been quite some years Yawna. Recognize this?" From the folds of his robes Thralk produced the bone axe. The Demon Wolf's dropped femur looked sharper than ever. Yawna winced as she realized that Thralk had been in possession of her father's axe handle.

"That's mine."

"Obviously. You seem to be lacking your usual luster. Where is your sense of justice and honor Yawna? Truly it's mine, the Demon Wolf is my possession after all." Thralk paused and began to giggle almost madly. It was a strange sight, the leader of the Holocaust, the undead lord of Yawna's pain, standing and giggling.

"Yawna you are too much." Thralk gestured to the bleeding undead in Yawna's arms, "Really, has your maternal instinct even stretched to my soldiers which as we speak are trying to find those infernal companions of yours."

"It's true then?"

"Yes, the oracle has betrayed me, she'll pay dearly for that." Thralk wiped some imaginary dust off his pristine robes, "And the prince is alive and well. Lying trolls."

"Don't you ever get tired of-"

"Shut up," Thralk interrupted the tauren loudly before nodding at his guards, "Someone grab her and finish off whatever pathetic soul still clings to the rotting corpse of the traitor." Thralk paused to allow himself a breath of fresh air. Yawna's axe twirled in his hand.

Something nagged at the back of the undead's mind though. As the Yawna was roughly seized by a burly pair of undead Thralk realized his mistake. The ground was mud.

Two torrents of water shot up from the ground. The wavering columns crashed on nearby men and caused them to spring back and cry out. The liquid crashed down on Thralk's army as Yawna slipped in between the flailing men. The undead summoner growled.

"Fools." With a snap of his fingers Thralk diminished the dying flood and it rose ghostly steam amongst the soldiers. Fire still crackled, five tiny flames floating a few inches above every finger.

"Go after her!"

* * *

"Goddamn." Var'Jun snarled as his sword cleaved through the air and was narrowly avoided by the pointed face of an undead soldier. Behind him he heard the familiar snarl of Gwyn's feline mouth curling around something's throat.

"There's too many." The panther behind the troll spat out a mouthful of foul, rotting blood and jumped out of the way of a pole arm.

"I know, I know!" the warrior prince roared angrily and sliced clean through the waist of a gulping priestess.

Var'Jun winced and looked around him. From everywhere it seemed there was a torrent of soldiers pouring forth. Their screams, yells, gurgles, and commands rose into a deafening tumult that threatened to pop the troll's eardrums.

But a new sound was roaring above the crazy noise of undead all trying to kill the same two people at once. It started as a low rumble that was peppered by crashing tent noises and the screams of those swept into it. Soon it was a screaming bellow, crashing noises and panicked cries ceasing the fighting of the figures and causing all to stand still.

The mud under Gwyn's feet began to crack and dry. Var'Jun had felt it too though he hadn't quite made the connection that Gwyn did. All the troll knew was that he had finally recognize what was coming their way.

A wave.

"It's Yawna." Gwyn remarked. She grasped the collar of the troll's shirt and began to push and hack her way through the undead. Those who realized that she was escaping fought back bitterly but most turned and ran.

"Yawna?" Var'Jun demanded, "But why would she-"

There was no more sound left in the troll's throat. Gwyn, dragging him along behind her, paused as he cut off and turned around to see what the troll saw.

The wave which at first might have been able to be outrun and withstood now towered almost fifty feet high. People sucked into it yelped and cried out only to have their voices drowned away by roaring water and liquid in their lungs. The wave was lapping at the ground around the troll and elf's feet.

"Yawna." Gwyn cried out as she saw the tauren _floating_ above the rising water. It took only a split second to study her though it seemed as if it was hours. Yawna's eyes were glowing their lucid blue color again as they had back in the Murloc camp all those years ago. In her arms she supported the body of an undead and the hands that curled under his neck and the crook of his legs glowed with a similar azure aura. But the most noticeable thing was the lights that floated around her back in the shape of a pair of jagged feathered wings.

"Yawna, no!" Gwyn called out suddenly. She felt her legs slip out from under her as the wave sucked her in and began to fill her lungs, "You'll kill them all!"

The wave just froze. Water turned into hard glass and a few of those with body parts half in and half out began to wriggle furiously. Var'Jun was trapped up to his waist in the frozen liquid and he began to pound it with his fists. Gwyn had fallen and was sitting on her knees that were stuck fast together.

Something made a skittering noise across the glassy water. While Yawna was still gliding across the stuck wave the noise grew louder and turned into an angry roar.

Thralk had avoided the water.

He snarled and raised the bone axe above Gwyn's neck. His face was livid, slime dripping from the corners of his mouth where he let ragged breath slip through. His eyes, sunken into the back of his skull, were red and glowing lividly.

"Goddamn traitorous wench!" Thralk brought the axe crashing down onto Gwyn's waist, "I'll kill you!"

* * *

Alrighty well that was sort of mean. Sorry about having a while to update. This week has been crazy. No problems though, next update hopefully very soon. Sorry about the cliffhanger. 


	22. Collide

Disclaimer: Warcraft is not mine and neither is their copyrighted books or any other Blizzard games. If they were I wouldn't be broke.

A/N: The truth is I started typing this chapter right as soon as I finished uploading the last one. Excluding the fact that I've been reading **Kin's** MahiMahi in between writing a few paragraphs. I, of course, have to wait for you all to respond to my chapter so that I can take your suggestions and answer your questions. But now I can not.

And now I can. Look, here's some:

**Geolord** tee hee! No eating my liver though .:shields internal organs:. How come you are always so sure of yourself. Btw, you are a bad guesser…. So far at least.

And **Kyn, **I am really enjoying your story .:points to above:. And I'll be reviewing as soon as I reach up to the thirteenth chapter. Not a slow reader, just one with no time. Blame this story. Yes, Thralk was having a little anger time. He's sort of losing control of his whole nonchalant villain thing. It's too much for him. Down the dark path? Is it the dark side. Maybe the semi-half lit side. Wait till you see this chapter!

Thanks **Old Guy** I was hoping to hear from you. Ooo! A scoring system for my story. Oh I am pleased! Thank you very much! Hopefully I can develop my undead a bit further. I have trouble with them because I love to write characters with feeling. Maybe it will come clear.

And thanks to others such as **Oreo, Starwolf Magic, and Samus** who review but don't have questions. Thanks guys.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two: Collide

Something hard and cold collided with Thralk's head. The undead wasn't even sure what it was or how it had suddenly caught him off guard. He felt the bone axe slide from his hands and glide along the slick surface of the frozen water. Agony made his head pound and his shoulder's crumpled as they hit the wall of motionless wave. This would have killed Thralk if he had been truly alive. Now he just popped his spine back into place and wondered what had hit him.

"You alright Gwyn?" The voice infuriated the undead summoner. He spat in it's direction as he stood slowly. The troll prince was still trying to rouse a voice from the oracle. She was not faring as well as Thralk thought she would be. At first he thought that the axe had indeed found it's mark but he soon realized she was choking. The glassy water had tightened around her waist when she had tried to avoid the axe and was cutting off her breath.

"Go ahead Yawna," Thralk massaged the bones of his shoulders and looked up at the floating being above him. He was smiling maliciously. "Choke the life out of her. It will be funnier to see your face when I tell you that you were her cause of death."

Var'Jun was yelling frantically now. At Yawna, at Gwyn, at Thralk, and even at someone who's name the undead only slightly recognized. Kat was it? Yes, that human priestess whom had been so close to the troll. Thralk snorted. The troll was going mad.

The water suddenly shifted as if the entire thing had moved to the left rapidly. Thralk felt the liquid, once frozen fast as stone, soon begin to break apart like slush and sink into the ground slowly. The elf regained her breath.

Two small drops of _something_ dripped onto Thralk's shoulder. He looked up slowly as he realized what it was. Blood from the wound of the undead rogue that he had tried to murder. The traitor. Surely the wound he had given him would prove too great to retain the power that kept his rotting corpse of a body moving. Surely.

But the rogue had done one thing. He had stopped Yawna. The tauren's face was stricken and she seemed to be listening to the soft words of the undead. Mekora was doing what he felt right.

"I will gut that traitor." Thralk promised himself.

The water melted away from it's timeless state and sunk into the ground which had gone dry and cracked now once again soft and spongy. Those who had been submerged in it dripped out onto ground and lay gasping for air. None had died.

Yawna was drifting down slowly towards earth. The troll and elf had stood quickly now, Gwyn supporting her bruised ribs and looked around for what Thralk could only guess was himself. The undead didn't move, it would be hard to discern him from the other undead that were groggily standing around him.

The wings at Yawna's back, or really the outline of feathers made from drops of water, dissipated as cloven hooves touched down on the ground. The undead in the tauren's arms was laid lightly on the ground before Yawna looked back up at Gwyn and Var'Jun. Her old companions were sight for sore eyes.

"Ah. Gwyn, Var'Jun, good thing you're here. There's so much I can't face alone." With that Yawna chuckled and remarked more softly, "And Thralk won't like having himself outnumbered."

The summoner balked. Yawna had known that he was there all along. The undead snarled and spit. She didn't fear him? He would make her fear him. Lacking a weapon now that the axe had been torn from him the undead leapt forward and seized Yawna by the throat from behind.

Gwyn and Var'Jun were quick to act but suddenly stopped as soon as they had started forwards. Thralk had begun to scream and writhe in agony. His hands were beginning to steam and he let go of Yawna's neck as if she was burning.

Thralk was propelled backwards at least twenty feet. He hit the solid figure of a wet tent that had withstood the wave. The undead howled with rage as he realized that he was paralyzed. His voice was not stopped though and the summoner crowed harsh commands to his stunned men. Their orders were clear.

Kill all but the tauren. Bring her to him.

Yawna slowly collapsed. Her body gracefully arched and she hit the mud with a muffled thump. Beside her was Mekora, his un-life's blood still spilling from his back and across the dirt, mingling with the water and silt to form a reddish brown murk.

"I think that undead is gone." Var'Jun remarked. His back stooped as he quickly scooped up the bone axe, already heaving the body of the feint tauren over his shoulder. The troll's strength was amazing. In a few seconds he had secured the heavy huntress to him piggyback style and was looking nervously to the undead soldiers. They were coming out of their daze.

"No matter. Yawna might want the body." Gwyn lifted the light rogue and began to jog, shortly followed by a few of the more lucid undead. A dagger whizzed past her head.

"Shoot, they outnumber us." Var'Jun remarked unnecessarily. At that point in time an arrow from a well-shot bow nicked the troll's ear and chipped it at the bottom. The troll winced and growled angrily. "I'm going to end up killing someone and dropping Yawna right here."

"Don't please." Gwyn whistled quickly and smiled as something rustled in nearby bushes. "Ah, here we are." Something pushed a sleek muzzle through the branches and snorted with anticipation before removing a squared jaw and angular eyes from the cover of shadows.

"Is that a _cat_?" Var'Jun demanded.

"Fastest there is. I spent no time wasting Thralk's power for my own uses." Var'Jun mumbled something about crazy, psycho broads before he turned to the hissing noises that were emitting from the druids mouth.

"What are you doing."

"Securing our flight." Gwyn let go a final string of meaningless words that the troll couldn't recognize. Behind him Var'Jun heard a series of _things_ break from the dirt. Muffled yells from rotting undead mouths told him the spell was successful.

The troll looked back quickly to see vines whipping their thorny sides over most of the undead. Those left untangled were slapped back by the vicious vegetation. The troll yelped softly as a curious vine tried to grasp his foot. It was quickly driven back as it recognized a friendly target.

"I thought those effing things only affected one target." Magic was an enigma to Var'Jun.

"I've been studying and practicing nonstop for the past two years. If I can't do things other druids can't by now I'm going to be mad." Gwyn smiled maliciously as Var'Jun paled. The elf scared him sometimes.

"Throw Yawna over the back of my mount and climb up yourself." Gwyn instructed him.

"I don't ride cats. Can it even carry that much? And where is the undead going to go?"

Gwyn ignored his first statement before throwing the undead across her back in the similar piggyback fashion Var'Jun was carrying Yawna.

"We'll soon find out and he'll go on my back." With that Gwyn's hands quickly morphed into small, delicate paws. Her face elongated into a gently curved muzzle and spots erupted along her skin. Fangs glittered from under her teeth until the transformation completed and a swift cheetah, slightly slowed by the scourge, went charging head.

"I don't like cats." Var'Jun squeezed his eyes shut and swung his leg over the saddle of the war saber. "This is wrong on so many levels."

* * *

Thralk was furious. He tore through the notes of prophecy and future that Gwyn had written for him. In his rage he began to light things aflame, his influence of the caustic powers of heat making the carefully written notes explode into a fiery mass. Thralk didn't care about the heat. He snarled and spit, throwing a temper tantrum and grabbing chunks of burning parchment. The smell of his own burning, rotting flesh filled the air. How dare that elf defy him?

Thralk was about to seize another sheaf of papers and burst them into flames when he stopped. A name had caught his eye.

"Katherine, Katherine, now where have I heard that before." The frantic voice of the troll prince returned to Thralk. He remembered the day two years ago that he had crouched at the side of a burning Murloc village and listened to that frantic cry.

"_Kat, Kat!"_

Thralk's dead eyes quickly scanned the paper. He smiled maliciously. This would certainly come in handy.

* * *

"Is she all right?" It was a simple question from Gwyn that seemed to require a less than simple answer from her troll friend. He crept slowly off the saber mount like a broken dog, arching his long spine and whimpering.

"Trolls are not meant to bow over the backs of your furry cat… thingies." Var'Jun sighed and eased the tauren off the patient feral feline while still babbling, "And another thing. Next time you go and have plans alert me beforehand. My butt hurts too."

"Lovely." Gwyn was studying the undead closely, "I don't need to know anything that happens to your body. _Anything._ Please do _not_ update me." The elf sighed and repeated her prior question.

"I don't know. She's been out cold the whole ride but she's still breathing." Var'Jun glanced over, "Are you still carrying that _thing_?"

"Yes, Yawna apparently had some connection to him so he has to be somewhat important. You really don't like undead at all, do you?"

"One killed my mother thank you. I'm not sure I'm ready to accept any of them."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Do you think it'll survive. Not doing to well as it is."

"Maybe. I'm hoping so." Var'Jun and Gwyn turned to meet the now cool, spring green eyes of the tauren huntress. She smiled slowly, a cool smile like her eyes that cloaked the sorrow and guilt she was feeling and instead made her look thoroughly prepared for anything.

"You are awake." Var'Jun smiled despite the annoyance that he felt for the undead and Gwyn. All bad feelings vanished for now. Yawna sometimes had that kind of effect.

"And alive." Gwyn remarked. It was strange of her to comment on something so apparent but the elf was just that off guard. It was the first time that the group had been almost full in quite a while.

"Mekora." Yawna looked down at the undead, "He is-"

"We don't know." Gwyn looked down at the undead, "How would you tell if an undead is well… dead?" Gwyn prodded the prone form on the ground gingerly, her fingers barely grazing the rotting flesh of his shoulder. Her disgust was apparent.

"That's not how you tell if he's dead. You poke him with a stick, like this." Var'Jun began to raise said wooden implement which he had located under a tree before Yawna sprang up, surprisingly spry for someone who had recently been close to death.

"Stop that." Yawna kneeled down beside the undead. Both Var'Jun and Gwyn grimaced as she cradled him as one would cradle a child. Mekora was not bleeding any longer. The skin around the axe wound had rotted over. Yawna's knowledge of undead was extremely limited.

"Mekora, please wake up." Yawna's breath was ragged as if she had just run miles. Her hands slowly turned the undead over to see the wound on his back. Her lips tightened over clenched teeth.

"Who is he?" Gwyn leaned over Yawna's shoulder to scrutinize the undead closer. Her eyes were hard. Gwyn would feel no remorse for the death of the young soldier if he did in fact lose the strength to keep his life force 'running.'

"He helped me escape. He's not like the others."

Yawna's eyes began to glow a faint blue once more. Her hands were surrounded by a heavy green aura that sounded like wind through the trees. Var'Jun and Gwyn both stepped back, the taste of magic on the air like being in a pungent copper vein or sucking on a hard bit of steel.

The skin around Mekora's wound, the already rotting flesh and exposed spine, slowly began to regenerate themselves. The undead's body shuddered and he opened his eyes after a prolonged amount of time. When he spoke his voice was weak and rattling but seemed somehow… _right._

"Oh good Yawna, you're alive. I was hoping you would be. You have a prophecy to keep alive, you know."

* * *

Over the next few days the small group gradually and painstakingly made their way away from the undead camp. If there had been scouts looking for them they had not found them, the members of the small rebellion kept hidden and safe.

Mekora was healing if not a bit jaggedly. At first he could only be carried from place to place by Yawna who seemed to have regained full strength and most of her memory. The undead was fed the berries and small amount of meat that the group could scrounge up (much to the troll and elf's annoyance).

Yet soon the undead was able to move around on his own. He rejected the food they gave him now and assured the tauren that he could find food for himself.

Yawna had stumbled upon him a few days after that just outside of their designated campground. The undead was hunched over some broken body of an undead, something mauled by what looked like bears or wolves. What those animals had not eaten he apparently was. Mekora's food source was his own kind, for the most part at the moment.

Yawna did not mention it or disturb him. She remembered how Thralk had eaten the flesh from the shoulder of the undead child years ago. Cannibalism ran a strong vein in the Forsaken race. Yawna wasn't one to judge. To each his own.

* * *

About a week had passed before Mekora had gained full strength. The group was now nestled securely at the tip of Elwynn Forest close by Stormwind. Being so close to the human capital, Var'Jun had said, made him uneasy. But it promised the absence of the Holocaust because they were not yet powerful to take on the capital.

"We need to take action." Var'Jun growled heatedly. He was arguing with Gwyn, something he had taken to doing recently.

"We need to plan, not just charge headlong into battle." Gwyn sniffed and turned her head away, "You need someone to keep you in check all the time! Like a little child."

Var'Jun snarled and regained his voice for another spurt of yelling. Both Mekora and Yawna looked up from where the tauren had been mending the rogue's armor. Fights between Var'Jun and Gwyn were often, but this one was particularly filled with spite.

"Well you seem to have no problem going out on your own. Except, maybe, when you need the help of Thralk and all the goddamn resources he offers you!"

"Well you always need some human hanging over your shoulder and waiting for you to catch up with her, don't you? Kat was the only thing tying you to earth and now you're useless!"

Var'Jun had no voice now. He seemed to deflate, the remark puncturing his ego and causing the troll to psychically collapse. His face paled.

"I.. I didn't mean that." Gwyn balked at the power of her words and sighed softly, "Maybe… Maybe I shouldn't tell you this. But I think you rather have the right to know. Still…"

Var'Jun didn't say anything. Yawna had stood incase the troll might launch himself into a Fury. Her Awareness picked up some sort of dangerous despair from the troll coupled with the strong desire to see the priestess again.

"Kat is alive." Gwyn paused, "She's in a small refuge village nearby in Elwynn, a hiding place of sorts that's guarded by a few strong men. I.. I located her just after the fire, they took her in and now she's some kind of healer there. But-"

"Which way is this town?" The troll interrupted strongly. His voice was commanding… edged. He could hardly believe what she was telling him but hope had soared, a phoenix from ashes of despair. The troll was adamant.

"Er… It's South a bit but- Hey! What are you doing, troll?"

"Going to get her." Var'Jun replied simply. His bittersweet smile had returned, "You going to stop me?"

"There's something you should know- Stupid! Come back here."

The troll had taken off running. His disappearing braid, now trailing down his back in a lavender coil, whipped out of sight behind a tree as the troll ran off.

"Trolls are fast." Mekora remarked.

"We'd better catch him, he's in for a nasty surprise." Gwyn mounted the nearby saber and sniffed before looking down. "Elune help us. How are you two supposed to keep up?"

"There was something we used to do back in Holocaust camp." Mekora began, "Won't take long…"

The heavy black mount's muscles pounded. Gwyn rode in the saddle, night elf lightness keeping the cat not so weighted down. Behind the steady saber a small litter was trailing. The hastily made wagon dragged along on runners of smooth branch, the base of the pulled burden was a jumble of leafy twigs much like a bird nest. It was all held together with sap, Gwyn's extensive knowledge of the wilderness differing from what Mekora had in mind, but still fair. It would not last any longer than the trop to the nearby refuge and slowed the mount extensively, but it served it's purpose.

"We're almost there." Gwyn called back to the undead and tauren who sat atop the trailer. The two nodded as Gwyn hopped off the mount and was quickly followed by her companions. The cat halted, mouth open to catch air.

The night elf was the first through the bushes. Yawna came behind her and was immediately confronted by the close by clearing in which the sanctuary was situated. It was not as small as Yawna had expected, quite a few permanent houses, some half built and some much more sturdy, dotting the area in between some temporary houses. Yawna could even see a few stores and vendors.

"The people are trying to make the best of things. They probably don't even know Stormwind is that close by, and if they do they might be a little apprehensive of big areas. Their old town burned down quite a while ago. They must fear large targets." Gwyn hissed this while looking around, "Now where has that crazy troll gone?"

Yawna spotted Var'Jun towards the end of the town. There were guards around but not what she would have suspected. They were at least fifty feet apart, four of them on either side of the people. At the very end of town was a building, one of the permanent ones with heavy logs creating it's walls and a thatched roof. Children played around it, some straying close to the edge of where the dirt came to bushes and moss. A slim woman in long robes was guiding them back to what seemed to be a school or orphanage. She had gingery hair piled in an elegant bun on the top of her head, strands straying into her face.

"Kat." Yawna breathed out.

Var'Jun had apparently spotted her as well. His face broke out into a smile of pure joy. Breath caught in his throat and he stood slowly. To the children he was a devil, the tall troll with his long, wild mane of hair that was tied back into a hasty and loose braid. His face was tattooed with it's usual light marking of tribal symbols. He was dressed in heavy leather and one of his long ears was pierced through with a couple of small gold hoops.

One child screamed and came running into the school house at top speed. The troll ignored the little human, his face split through with a grin that lit his face.

Kat looked up quickly. Her heart caught in her throat. She took a step backwards in disbelief, mind numbed down.

"Oh Kat." Var'Jun's breath shuddered and shattered the air. He almost seemed to trip forwards, grasping the priestess's shoulders and drawing her close to him while he buried his face in her shoulder. She felt his tusks, a light pressure on her collarbone.

Kat screamed.

"Troll!" She hollered while pushing him off her and screaming frantically, "There's a troll attacking the school!"

"What?" Tears of surprise and sting caught in the trolls' eyes, "Kat it's me!"

"Get away from me you foul creature!" The priestess summoned a burst of blue fire to her hands and shot it off, narrowly missing the troll's head. Var'Jun was not stupid, he knew enough to turn around and run as the guards starting pouring in to the frantic female's cry. His heart was bleeding.

The troll ran headlong into Yawna and Gwyn as he fled. The humans had not followed him, choosing instead defense than the offense the warrior had suspected. Broken sobs ripped from the prince's throat.

"She pushed me away…. She tried to kill me." The troll looked ready to collapse.

"Don't you understand?" Gwyn roared, her teeth clenched angrily, "Kat has lost her memory, every account of time she spent with us. She remembers none of it! I tried to warn you."

"She hates me." Var'Jun was shaking violently, "I… I-"

He was cut off quickly as Mekora began to breath raggedly and hissed softly, "Thralk is here. I feel him. There's a _lot_ of undead somewhere nearby!"

* * *

I am _evil!_ Pure and spiteful evil. Sorry about that guys! Just when you thought you had it all down! And now I turn on you like this. Shame on me! R&R I can't wait to see the comments for this! 


	23. Onslaught

Disclaimer: Warcraft not mine….. My math even worse

A/N: Heh, you people were all expecting a tearful reunion between troll and human but then I turn the tables on you. That's not even the best twist that I have for this. Oh ho ho! But onto some Reader Replies…

To **Armiece**, am I really that evil .:malicious laughter:. No, but seriously everyone's reactions were great! So pleasing! And that's good to know. I was hoping that some undead would have feeling. I seem to have trouble writing those things without any character.

Sorry **Oreo, **I don't think that'll be happening any time soon. Unfortunately for you I seem to be at the type of crossroads where cliffhangers are all I do. I suppose you could say Mekora 'lived', he certainly didn't die… I suppose. 0.o

Hope you enjoyed your nap **Crimson. **This chapter is quite head splitter as well. The reasoning for all my madness shall soon be revealed. I sometimes mean to write a sad story but this one is more uplifting and a brain-worker than anything else. I hope Raincaller will make you all think.

Well **Old Guy** if **Armeice **is correct than I am writing them correctly. Or maybe not. My undead have feeling I guess, that's the way it'll be. Besides, Thralk has to be suitably evil while having his own motives and I can't pull that off when there are no emotions in him.

**Youkai** you are always so perceptive. I expected someone to find some kind of fault with my idea of distributing weight. My science has never been that great. I did, of course, forget to mention that the ride which Var'Jun and Yawna took on the poor mount was rather slow. True, Mekora weighs hardly anything, so I thought that the cat could be light on it's feet while Gwyn was seated on it and Yawna could ride on the cart. This was to make them go a bit faster, because speed was the key there. I thought about making Yawna steer the mount and Gwyn go travel form but I figured Yawna couldn't ride. Hopefully that makes some sense. And as for fowl, I was tired that night and not thinking. But thanks for pointing that out, it has been changed because it's just too annoying to stay there.

Well **Blood and Honor** you seem to have gotten very perceptive. I was wondering if someone would guess amnesia, it was somewhat a rather obvious approach but I did try and make the finding of everyone else quite easy so you'd be mislead on Kat. Btw, the e-mail is working. Try and create one there if it messes up again, it's free and easy.

And geeze **Geolord, Samus, and Star Wolf **sure are mad at me.

Alright now!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: Onslaught

Katherine Blackwell was definitely one of the most fearsome and sensible women of all the refuge camp. She was also the most sought after. Ever since the gingery-haired youth had been found by the fire patrol she had become a valuable asset to the people that she now called her family. Katherine was a strong woman, hardly anything could tear her down. But the refugees noticed a distinct change in their healer and leader. After she had seen that troll she hadn't quite functioned right.

Only five minutes after the guards were sure that the Horde warrior had left they returned to report that he had not put up a fight. Katherine announced feeling rather ill and nobody could blame her, a few remarking how strong she was even after being embraced against her will by the disgusting creature.

"If you don't mind me asking, Ms. Blackwell, what's gotten into your mind?" A curious cook asked softly as the pronounced woman entered the mess hall for a change of pace. Watching the refugees children could be straining. Though she looked rather dazed the priestess smiled at her warmly before shaking her head.

"Seems like I've met him is all." she replied quietly. The human busied herself in the kitchen as if to show that she was done with the cooks questions. The young woman shrugged and continued her work.

"You've met him?" The cook piped up again much to Katherine's dislike. She pursed her lips and continued with her charming smile.

"No, no, it just seemed like that. I was just having some sort of déjà vu." The priestess didn't really want to recall the strange sensation of the lanky troll's arms around her. It was almost to much to think that it seemed familiar.

"But you don't recollect your old memories, madam, what if you did know him."

"Well I highly doubt that." Katherine left the kitchen. The cook was too much, she would have to find some other place to spend her time thinking.

Katherine closed her eyes as she exited the vast mess hall and tried to recall where she remembered that warm embrace. Most of her was revolted by the fact that he had even dared to come close.

There was a far more disturbing side to what had taken place. Katherine Black could not understand a single word of orchish. But she had understood what she thought was her own name, 'Kat' slip in-between the heavy orchish language spilling from the troll's mouth. How had he known her name?

A few of the town's bachelors perked up as they saw the pretty female exit the kitchens. They were all honorable and brave men if not a little assertive and slightly insensitive. James Torrent, the unspoken leader of the pack, was leaning smoothly against a fence and grinning wolfishly.

"Katherine," He purred, "Out here all alone. You know, there's this perfect spot to-"

Katherine was about to throw an excuse his way when she stopped. Something caught her eye though and she turned from the polished man to see what the flickering lights were.

Fire.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Var'Jun growled disapprovingly as the undead rogue nodded and continued to test the air with his sunken, rotting nose.

"I sense it too." Yawna put in after a couple of seconds of standing with closed eyes. "But I'm not sure if it's a lot of undead or just something really huge."

"Like an abomination?" Gwyn asked.

"Bigger."

The elf blanched.

A plume of sudden flames shot from in-between two massive oak trees. The fire ate everything in it's path, desecrating leaves and branches.

"Well, well, well." Thralk's voice oozed through the trees, "Imagine seeing you here."

The Forsaken rebel was once again his cool polished self. All the rage he had possessed had been toned down to a controlled flame that could be fed and blazed at any interval. He emerged through the brush, a decayed smile glittering on his lips and making his face crack and contort as if the movement of his mouth was splitting his face in half. He was dressed in armor of bone and gravestone, dark grey and blanched white in a matte danger. Over this was thrown robes of a hued deep, dark red like congealed blood.

The summoner was astride what Yawna recognized immediately as the Demon Wolf that had caused so much grief. It had gotten larger though, strangely more powerful and evil looking. Flames now licked out white hot from it's body though they didn't seem to affect the summoner at all. Yawna did notice with some pride, however, that the femur bone that she had stolen years back was still missing. The demon was now far, far bigger than the riding wolves that orc favored and it's head was so massive that Yawna could hardly see Thralk.

Yawna turned to see what Gwyn, Var'Jun, and Mekora would make of this. They had admitted once to not seeing the beast and it must appear to them that Thralk was floating on air.

But the Tauren was surprised to see that Gwyn's face was a mask of fear, Var'Jun set in a way that made her think he was ready for any battle at all, and Mekora's so horrified that if the rogue was still alive he probably would have been crying.

"Ah yes, Yawna, I believe I have something that belongs to you." Thralk guided the Demon Wolf so that the massive creature of fire and bones had shifted sideways. Yawna gasped as she saw what Thralk had meant and her breath grew angry and sick.

"You bastard."

"Watch your mouth in front of the children." Thralk rebuked and petted the small figure that was sitting miserably behind him. Yawna recognized the troll girl immediately. Her long ponytail of messy red hair and slight features had been etched into the huntress's memory.

Milla had not lost her optimistic attitude. Though she looked afraid and perturbed that she was near Thralk she still smiled when she spotted Yawna.

"Mommy?"

"It's a shame her friends didn't make it though. You see, when only you, Yawna, and I could see the wolf it was hardly any use for intimidation. The wolf has a taste for child's blood, though, and young Toni and Alfor were the perfect candidates.

Yawna let out a broken sob and tears of frustration, anger, and sorrow had beaded at the corners of her eyes.

"You're a monster."

"If that is so," Thralk looked rather indifferent, "Then we are both monsters. The power granted to you is just as dangerous as the power granted to me."

Yawna hissed softly before ripping the bone axe out of it's sheath. Her hands trembled, square teeth bared angrily at the summoner. He in turn gave her a glittering grin which once again ripped his face in half and looked more as if he were sneering triumphantly.

"Go on." Thralk quietly slipped off the edge of the bone wolf, carrying Milla with him and clicking what was left of his decaying tongue at the wolf. The beast seemed to almost nod before sauntering off in the opposite direction.

"Go on," Thralk repeated, the sentiment apparently directed at Yawna instead of his demonic dog, "Throw it at me, strike me with it. I can hardly wait for the death by your hand."

Yawna shook violently, breath ragged and harsh. She sobbed with wrath as the bone axe slipped back into it's sheath. Yawna could maim, could not kill. It was the wrong world for her to be in.

"Coward." Thralk sneered.

At that moment Var'Jun snapped. It might have been the fact that Milla was his own kind and her fear was eating away at him. It might have been that fact that she was just a child and he felt compassion for her innocence. It could have been his own pain from finding out what Kat had become or just how much he hated Thralk. Either way, the troll had lost control.

Var'Jun ripped out his sword, Fury blazing a tinted red in his eyes. He lunged at the summoner with the broad blade tilted and aimed at the undead's head.

The summoner hissed, only having enough time to drop the child and duck before the steel went whistling over his head and into a tree behind him. Milla scampered away from the feuding pair and rushed to hide behind Yawna.

Thralk's balled fist collided heavily with the warrior's stomach and winded him. While the troll gasped for air the undead shoved his bony hands around the prince's neck. Loss of oxygen made the troll weak and he stumbled with the hindrance.

"I'm going to find your little human girlfriend." Thralk hissed almost lovingly into the troll's ear, "And then I'm going to give her straight back to where she originally belonged. There are many more like Kolkua, you know."

Var'Jun growled through his broken breath.

"Or who knows. She's a rather pretty thing. I might take a-"

The summoner never finished the sentence. Var'Jun's hand, long nails splayed, connected with the Forsaken's face and began to rip away at the decaying matter. Thralk had not anticipated such strength from the air-starved troll and he let go immediately to shield his countenance from the onslaught.

Var'Jun's red-tinted eyes narrowed and he leapt at the summoner completely ignoring his sword that had stuck into the tree and the fact hat he was unarmed. The undead and troll began to fight almost madly, not bothering to deflect each other's blows. Instead they sought to rip each other's skin off, nails and teeth doing the job quite nicely.

Thralk grabbed something that was bright. In a mind in which Fury reigned Var'Jun could hardly comprehend what the summoner had in mind with that. The troll understood only when Thralk shoved the lit branch into the prince's hand and it burnt.

Var'Jun howled and backed away from the Forsaken, Fury not altogether gone but sedated slightly. When he looked up he saw the trees were alit with golden flames. Yawna was summoning water from the ground, her hands flying as she deflected the branches that were starting to fall and threatened to hit the travelers.

"C'mon troll!" Gwyn snarled as she grabbed Var'Jun by the collar of his leather tunic. When the troll looked back Thralk had disappeared. All that was left were a few blood stains and pieces of his blood-hued robe.

As Gwyn yanked him by Var'Jun tore his sword from the tree. Slightly perturbed by the fact that he had easily gone into such a Fury he straightened himself up and joined back with the crowd.

"He's obviously set the village on fire," Yawna was saying as he regrouped, "Do we go back and help or not."

The tauren was looking at Var'Jun. He seemed lost, however, staring at the little troll hiding behind Yawna's feet.

"We flee." Gwyn put in strongly. This was met by a few mutters and the night elf sighed as well, "I know, but I think it's for the best. Besides what are we going to do if we lose one of us again? Hopefully Kat will make it out okay and live the life she probably should have before any of this happened to her. If she can escape this… well… it's probably fated she is not with us anymore."

"Where's the mount?" Mekora asked suddenly.

"She ran off, poor thing. I think her tail was on fire but she'll make it. She'll go back to the night elves, all Nightsabres know the way. They'll take care if her."

At that moment mass confusion struck. Men and women from the village came pouring out of the trees, their struggling madness to escape their burning deaths causing them to totally miss the small group. They did bump into them though, roughing and tousling them so that they were headed away from the village as well.

Daylight broke through the tree cover and the people poured out into the edge of the woods. Surprised as anyone to find themselves there Yawna's companions winced at the sight of Stormwind in the distance. They had been on the wrong side of the refugee camp.

"What do we do?" Yawna hissed.

"We run sideways, east, so that we reach the shore in the east. There's no way we can chance being near Stormwind."

It was decided. Var'Jun cast one last piteous look at the group of humans. He wanted to see Kat leaping out of them, carrying on in her annoyed tone and trying to be mad at him even with the affection that had always laced her voice. But he saw none of this, only the flames eating away at the portion of Elwynn forest.

* * *

Katherine stumbled in the flames. She had lost all sense of direction. Her skin was beginning to bake, her throat tighten, her lungs clog. There was hardly any way for her to tell where she was going and the truth stood that she was actually heading _into_ Elwynn instead of towards the refuge of Stormwind.

In her stumbling Katherine's arms outstretched to the ground. Suddenly her hands connected with fur. Too panicked of the fire to be frightened of this new creature she held on tight. The silken fur below her fingertips shifted as the muscles tightened and the animal began to head the other way. Katherine followed it.

For what seemed to be forever the beast guided her through the conflagration. Finally she felt cold air on her face and the embers receded behind her.

Katherine could now see a bit better. She down, her vision still a bit blurry, to see what had saved her. It was an old wolf, grey and black with a white-peppered muzzle and deep golden eyes. It looked up at her, almost humanly smiling with it's tongue lolling out.

Katherine pet it's head absently while she looked into the distance. It was not what she expected. Her blurred sight revealed what she thought was a plain of nothing, a small black smudge on the horizon a city… or something else. She could hardly take chances.

"Where can I go?" the priestess asked herself softly. The wolf yipped a return and began to once more pull ahead. The human followed it, what choice did she have?

* * *

It was a long time before Yawna and her group felt safe enough to stop. Stormwind had receded from view a while back cloaked by trees and the horizon. The travelers were exhausted and they began to set camp.

Var'Jun sighed as he picked his teeth with a small twig.

"It's just not fair, you know. It's not fair at all." No one remarked upon this and the troll continued, "Why can does Thralk keep on winning. He's the evil one."

"Because this is not a fairy tale." Gwyn replied testily, "Good hardly ever wins."

"Thralk's fighting for what he believes in." Yawna remarked quietly, "In his eyes we are the evil ones." This was greeted with silence. Yawna shook her head and looked back at Milla. The little troll was asleep in the middle of Var'Jun and herself rolled up in Gwyn's cloak.

A few twigs snapped in the distance. Var'Jun stopped tending to the meat they had thrown over the fire (and the few roots that Yawna had managed to dig up) to listen. Gwyn notched an arrow and Yawna's hand rested on the hilt of the axe.

A wolf's slender muzzle poked through the underbrush. This was followed closely by the familiar golden eyes and perky, tattered ears.

"Weary Traveler!" Yawna cried out with joy. She leapt up and began to pet the wolf furiously, scratching behind his ears and under his chin. The old wolf was just as overjoyed as his master and yipped softly.

"Oh god, the wolf took me to you of all people." Kat was behind the pet. She narrowed her eyes as she spotted Mekora though she didn't seem to see Var'Jun yet. He was almost partially hidden behind the fire and he froze as he saw the priestess.

But there was something in the priestess's voice. It was tired and slightly strained. After a few seconds of looking around the camp fire the priestess rolled her eyes to the sky and feinted dead away.

"Well…" Var'Jun said after a moment, "At least she's not dead…"

* * *

Kat was tended to ask best they could. Most of her feinting was attributed to the fact that she was exhausted and had inhaled a lot of smoke. She was made comfortable though and soon after the small group had eaten and they had chosen sleeping spots the night's guard was chosen.

"I don't want to be first," Var'Jun pouted, "What if she wakes up when I'm watching. She _hates_ me." Var'Jun's usual pouting was underplayed with a true sadness and frustration.

"That's the point." Yawna replied patiently, "We suppose she'll wake up in the middle of the night. You're only taking about a quarter of it."

Var'Jun snorted.

"Fine, I'll take it. But if she wakes up I'm getting one of you." With that Var'Jun spun on his heels and went to go sit along the edge of the camp.

"What have you seen?" Yawna knew that look in Gwyn's eyes.

"I'm not sure. It's blurry, but hopeful." Gwyn would say no more.

Var'Jun sat for a long while in silence. His mind was writhing and seething. He should have known that fate wouldn't have let him rest. It had never before. The troll sighed and looked back at Kat.

She was sleeping soundly, a calm expression on her face. She was serene, pristine as she always was and what Var'Jun had been waiting two years for. His heart tightened. It really didn't have to be like that, did it?

"Loa, what have you done to me?" Var'Jun demanded suddenly. His teethe tightened in his jaw and he slowly picked himself up and sat down next to the priestess. He couldn't help himself.

"Why Don't you remember me?" Var'Jun whispered softly, "What happened to you?"

"Ugh." It was the only sound the human could manage. She woke from the drowsy state she had been in to see the troll leaning over her with a pained expression on his face.

"What are you doing?" she finally demanded in a hissing voice that resonated with anger.

"Nothing." Var'Jun snarled back, defensive despite his feelings towards her.

"Fine."

There was a long silence before the troll heard her shifting. She stood and came up behind the sitting troll, breathing down his neck and making him uncomfortable. Finally she sat down near him, not very close because it appeared she was still disgusted, but it was rather close to him.

"Why?" she demanded suddenly with such venom in her voice that the caustic anger made the troll wince and look at her. She was staring at the stars though, her face disturbed and teeth tight.

"Eh?" was all Var'Jun could manage to gag out.

"Why?" She demanded again and with even more vehemence than before, "Why do I dream about you?"

"You… you what?"

"I dream about you," she was dangerously quiet, "I see your face. And you know what? I hate it." With that she stood up once again and laid back down where she had been sleeping beforehand.

After a long moment of silence the troll hunched his back miserably before adopting a cheerful façade and replying.

"Good night then."

* * *

I'm very sorry that took so long everyone. I've been making my Anime Music Video and I've had some pretty severe writer's block. But I'm on vacation this next week Wends-Sat so please bare with me. 


	24. Confession

Disclaimer: Warcraft is not mine. I did make a new account on Feathermoon if anyone is on there though. It's a troll rogue, Ruekka. May come in handy later…

A/N: Here we are again. I am having so much fun writing this! Everyone sends me such nice reviews!

So here's some replies:

To **Starwolf Magic **who gave me such a flattering review. Sqwee! I'm sorry Kat had to get amnesia. She had to though, it's the rules. And I would be honored to have someone make a fan fiction of my fan fiction. It would be so amusing to read especially when you hear then ending. So much potential. But.. Ah. I was thinking of making a sequel but to overdo it when I cannot turn back wouldn't be right. I will be working on another story for Warcraft though. You can make your sequel.

Yes the catfight was fun to write, **Kyn. **I love playing Var'Jun and Kat together because they mold so interestingly. I know, I always do that with my words. Might be partial dyslexia or something. Stop updating before I can finish the chapter! .:pout:.

Stop bragging **Geomancer** or I won't let you do that anymore! And yes, the only chapter so far with no cliffy (I believe)…

I didn't think it was mean **Youkai** I found it as good critique. I gave you a big long answer too! You'll see what happened to Weary Traveler. Poor Toni and Alfor, they got sacrificed for that damn wolf….

Thank you for noticing that **Old Guy!** I was hoping someone would catch it. I believe in exactly that and I love to put it into my writing. Yawna seems like the exact person to go and say that too, huh? .:hug special thanks:. Wow, you have done your homework on this!'

And thanks to **Yeth, and Oreo.** Super guys.

120 reviews!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four: Confession

The next morning was awoken to a fresh day. Breakfast was silent, the group wary of their new addition who had once been the original.

Kat sat as far away from Var'Jun as she could, eyeing him angrily once in a while and sticking close to Gwyn for the lack of any other Alliance member within the neutral group.

When Gwyn could stand the silence no more she turned to peaceful Yawna, the huntress absently petting Weary Traveler and coaxing Mekora to calm down while entertaining Milla. The huntress's hands caused small water droplets to shift around, floating in the air and making brilliant patterns. The undead rogue had hardly been able to function since he had seen the Demon Wolf. He could not sleep, but when he did rest it was tousled and troubled.

"Yawna?"

The tauren nodded and flicked her wrist, the water droplets dissolving back into the ground much to Milla's dismay. Gwyn blinked, not startled but more amazed, and looked up at the kindly hunter's face.

"What is your plan?"

"My plan?" Yawna looked startled for a moment before she relaxed slightly.

"No one's accusing you of anything," Var'Jun put in with a slight chuckle. He was running a whetting stone down his impossible broad sword, polishing it's violence. "You've been jumpy. Being around undead making you condemned?" The troll giggled as Mekora shot him a rather ugly look.

"Jokin' brothah." Var'Jun put in as he laced his words with heavy accent. "Been with the uptight troll's too long, mon." Milla laughed softly, coming up behind the troll prince to yank on his ears and pull his braid.

"Uptight my ears." Gwyn spit back before turning to Yawna again. The tauren was smiling fondly as she watched the young troll.

"Right," Yawna closed her eyes for a moment before picking up a stick near the fire. She began to outline a few boxes with her jaws closed tight.

"A long time ago I had thought that the Banshee Queen would aid us in stopping the Holocaust and Thralk. He, after all, must have originated from her and gotten his soldiers from her armies. But the more I thought about it the more I began to figure out why Sylvanis had not already stopped him is because she cares not for what he's doing. As long as Thralk continues to terrorize both sides then Sylvanis has no problems. The Horde had never been close to the undead, as you know, and the feeling is a likewise one."

"So there's no help there?" Var'Jun yawned widely.

"Nope." Yawna crossed out one of the boxes, "None of the other Horde members would be that willing to lead an attack against the Holocaust quite yet because, first of all, to my knowledge we are the only ones who know that it is actually Thralk that is burning down the towns. And to have our word stand for it would be rather useless. No Horde or Alliance faction would be willing to lead war on the Holocaust soldiers."

"How so?"

"If the Alliance attacked it would look like a deliberate and organized force against the Horde and would be met right back. If the Horde attacked it would be seen as betraying their allies and then we would be met with a similar problem."

"Confirmed." Gwyn sighed and leaned back. Milla was behind her studying her long elf's ears and watching as the wispy eyebrows of the druidess moved as she did. Gwyn ignored most of this with the patience of a saint.

"And besides, who's going to listen to us anyhow. If you haven't noticed, we're a little crazy." Var'Jun pointed at each of his companions in turn, "Sure, Milla's cute but no one's going to believe her if she tells them Thralk's controlling some big, fiery wolf… thingy. And you, Yawna, have never gotten your hands dirty with a days worth of blood. They'll think you're trying to undermine them. Besides, since one of your horns is shorter it looks like you're always cocking your head quizzically."

Var'Jun smiled as Gwyn shot an icy look his way.

"You are haughty and a night elf. That's really all you need but on top of that you have some pretty big ears." Var'Jun ignored Gwyn's protest of the size of _his_ ears.

"Then we have the wimpy undead rogue who has some self-conscience problems." Mekora sniffed with what could have been mistaken as annoyance but was rather was amusement, "And the human priestess who doesn't even know who she is. Trustable bunch, eh?"

"Shut up!" Kat roared suddenly launching to her feet and facing down Var'Jun. He hadn't expected it any more than anyone else had and his eyes were wide with shock. "You don't know me!"

With that the human stomped off, her hands balled into tight fists and her feet stomping on the wet ground.

"What was that?"

"You offended her." Gwyn replied while pulling Milla onto her lap and tying her hair back into a ponytail with a piece of vine she had been working, "She thinks she knows exactly who she is, a priestess of the human refugees and quite the reserved young woman. But then again she can't remember before she entered that village. Her childhood, parents, siblings, young loves, her entire life has been lost to her. To be told by you, a troll, in the tone of voice that suggests _you_ know who she is unbearable for her."

"That's how the woman mind works, eh?" Var'Jun shook his head with confusion, "If you wrote a book on that Gwyn you'd be rich."

"Humorous, as usual," Gwyn narrowed her eyes at the troll before giving Yawna a sidelong, knowing look and remarking casually, "Taking this pretty well, aren't you Var'Jun?"

"You've been talking about me behind my back?" Var'Jun was half accusing and half confirming.

"We are just worried," Yawna sighed and looked at the ground, nerves making her powers go slightly haywire as bits of liquid rose from the ground and swirled so much they made Mekora dizzy. Milla had stopped toying with Gwyn's long hair to watch.

"Worried?"

"Well, you too were very… close, for lack of a better word at the moment- Milla stop that it hurts- and we weren't sure how you're going to take this." Gwyn gave the troll warrior an awkward pet on the shoulder as if she were unused to comforting anyone, "Maybe I should be the one to go fetch her."

Kat was surveying the trees and sun as if trying to find some landmark or direction. She started off through the trees looking far too certain as if trying to persuade herself that it was the correct way (though it was the exact opposite)

"No," Var'Jun stretched out his lanky legs before standing stiffly and shouldering his sheath with it's massive sword nestled inside. He let his breath out as if this was to be some long and tedious task.

"I'll do it. She's going to have to get used to me anyways if we're going to travel together. Somewhat tolerance is better than nothing." With that the troll turned his back on the tauren, troll, elf, and undead. As he stalked off Mekora whispered in his grating voice,

"He is… in denial?"

"Most likely," Yawna smiled fondly at the undead before summoning more small, watery figures from the dirt. Though it alarmed her that she could do this with much less effort than before she didn't make any sign to it and continued to fascinate Milla with them.

* * *

Var'Jun tailed behind the priestess for quite a while longer than he should have. To have the priestess so close to him, her scent lingering on the leaves she brushed by as if the branches were trying not to lose the sensation of her closeness. The troll breathed in the scent for a final time of silence before leaping into the low branch of a tree and scampering overhead.

Kat was muttering to herself when the troll, who has scaled the branches above and had gotten slightly ahead of her, hoisted himself upside down and thrust his head right in front of hers. The human's mutterings quickly turned to screams and she attempted to smack the troll.

"Not nice," Var'Jun dodged the blow easily and leaped down from the tree nimbly so that he was standing directly in front of the human. He was easily taller than her so that when he looked down he only saw the top of her head. This was, of course, just in time to dodge another blow which caused him to hop backwards.

"Stop blasting away in that cursed language." Var'Jun suddenly realized he had been speaking in orchish, something he had been talking a lot in the past two years.

"My apologies." Back into common.

"Shut up."

"You used to be a lot friendlier you know."

Kat spun on the troll as if stung. She raised her hand as if to take another swing but paused suddenly. Her face, pulled into an icy façade, now melted quite clearly. Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes.

"What?" Var'Jun moved a tad closer only to be swatted away again.

"Stop that!" Kat hissed, "Stop talking to me like you knew me. Stop looking at me with that glaze on your eyes or watching me while I'm asleep or spying on me when you think I'm not looking. It's not fair, I tell you."

"Listen-"

"No you," The priestess toyed with the idea of the troll's opinion only for a second before continuing, "You listen to me. I want to know all you know about me! All of it! Don't leave anything out."

Var'Jun paused as if expecting some great lightning bolt to erupt from the sky. He blinked once or twice before shrugging and throwing back another question.

"Why?"

"I thought I knew who I might be," Kat replied level-headedly once more, "I was a healer, a leader, and the main priestess of the refugee camp. But I always wondered why I couldn't even remember my life. You keep saying you know something, what do you know?"

"Alright," Var'Jun bit his tongue in concentration, " For one thing you're a spectacular healer"- here the troll put a hand on his waist- "And you used to live in a village near Stormwind. I think at least… Both your parents, I'm afraid, are dead."

Kat gave a nod as if she expected this.

"You had some sort of an arranged marriage with a fellow called Malchior. Staunch paladin type, a bit of a show off with a rather nasty, hidden side and a knack for being racist, but he turned out to be a rather good bloke. In the end.. That is… unfortunately he died defending you."

"You traveled with us for a long time. See, Yawna's got some kind of prophecy that is hanging over her head. The nice undead who set your village on fire, Thralk, is corrupting all of Azeroth and Yawna's supposed to stop him. Gwyn's helping us because Thralk has her mother captive, she's a druid and wants the earth balanced, and I think she holds some kind of responsibility towards it. She's the oracle who keeps on telling us the prophecy piece by piece though it was originally Yawna's mentor who started it."

"Mekora… well I don't really know his story. Yawna met him back in the Holocaust camp when she was captured there and he has been following us since."

"You were helping because Thralk had not only killed your parents, friends, and family but had burnt down your home as well. When we found you, Yawna and I, you were all alone and in a pretty pathetic state. Besides, when Yawna tells us something we usually listen. She's got a way of making things sound so simple."

"We got caught in a big fire Thralk had set up about two years ago. We were all split up and somehow there you seemed to have lost your memory of all this stuff. Strange, eh?"

"You didn't tell me your reason."

"Eh."

"You didn't tell me your reason for wanting to come along." Kat's eyes rang with suspicion, "Why would you help?"

"I am the troll prince of the Darkspear tribe. When I take a mate I will be king. If I do not help save my people and risk my neck than how can I expect them to risk theirs? On top of that I owe Yawna my life, she saved me from a band of raiders. I'll be damned if I don't repay her."

"You're damned already."

"That's a matter of opinion."

Kat fell silent, drinking in the information given to her and looking everywhere but the troll. It seemed as if she had looked at every tree in sight and maybe every blade of grass before she looked back at the hopeful troll. He thought, by some slight miracle of chance, that Kat's memory had been suddenly jarred and she would come back to him.

"Why did you hug me back in the village?" she demanded suddenly, hooding her eyes and staring at him as if expecting to hear a lie. "What was our connection when I had all my memories?"

Var'Jun paused for a moment. Regret seeped into his eyes and his entire body seemed to be trying to throw off what he was about to say. But the troll's brain was working in overtime and he instead smiled rather sadly.

"Nothing really," he responded in a cool, calm voice, "I was rather an annoying pest to you and you were someone to bother for me."

"Then why did you hug me."

"I was trying to cut your purse but you didn't have any money on you."

"I'm not surprised."

"Will you come with us still?" It was a simple question though a torrent of emotions were ripping away Var'Jun's heart, "You can go to Stormwind if you like… but I think we'd all like it if you came along."

The priestess looked curious for a moment before replying, "I am not who I thought I am. But if anything I want to be her again. I will come and maybe someday be able to be the Katherine you knew. I want my life to return."

"Good." and without another word Var'Jun launched himself back up into the tree and began to hurtle off through the branches. "And to let you know, you were heading towards the opposite shore the whole time." The call came from over the troll's shoulder. Kat seethed.

* * *

"Are you sue we want to do that?" Var'Jun picked a bit of meat from his teeth while he reasoned with Yawna, "I'm all for trying to fight Thralk, but going after him with refugee armies? That's insane? They won't even be trained."

"Then we will train them." Gwyn responded resolutely, "If Yawna says it will work I'm all for it."

Var'Jun sighed with resignation. "I will tell you one race that you can count on. The trolls are at your service."

"Thank you. I know how much that means to you and your people. My gratitude is yours." Yawna smiled warmly at the troll.

"Think nothing of it." Var'Jun growled as if this was not a large feat. To persuade his people to follow him against Thralk was going to be a huge task.

"For some strange reason this reminds me," Gwyn interrupted, "Did you tell Kat who she was? For some reason she asked me before she went to bed if Malchior had ever kissed her."

Var'Jun paled swiftly and gave a nervous laugh before shrugging.

"I told her some."

"Some is a lot where I come from." Mekora put in softly.

"Shut up you," Var'Jun sniffed and turned back to Yawna. Milla yanked hard on his ear before he could speak, however.

"Shut up is a bad word." the young troll reminded him resolutely.

"Sorry then," Var'Jun ruffled the troll's hair fondly before continuing, "I told her a bit of it but she didn't demand much. She wanted to know about her parents and why she wasn't with them. Plus she was wondering why we were banded together and why she had been following us along with all our motives."

"Did you tell her about your passion for each other?" Gwyn put bluntly. Var'Jun panicked and looked over to where Kat was sleeping soundly by the fire. When he was sure she had not heard a word of the sentence he snarled softly at the elf.

"No I didn't."

"Or how you kissed?" Yawna snuck in slyly. Var'Jun threw her a particularly dirty look before going on with what he had been saying before Yawna's comment. Mekora was giggling almost madly.

"No I did not. And do you want to know why?" The group nodded, " It's because I want her to be safe. Remember what Thralk said. He'd use her to get to me or vice versa. I don't want her hurt, the less she has to do with me the better."

"Are you sure you want to do that Var'Jun. You love he so much- Stop protesting it's true- and I'm not sure that's what the old Kat would have wanted."

"Well it's my decision now." Var'Jun replied heavily, "And I can do what I like with it. I don't want Thralk to kill her… or worse." Var'Jun grunted darkly before stalking to the opposite side of the fire from Kat and laying down without another word.

"I suppose we're taking first watch then." Gwyn remarked as she settled against a tree and moved the sleeping Milla closer to the fire, "The night is long."

* * *

The next morning was crisp and clear. Var'Jun smiled wearily as Yawna, Gwyn, and Kat arose. He threw aside the game he had been playing with Mekora, something consisting of pebbles, leaves, and one large ambercorn.

"You win." the troll stretched and sheathed his sword. "A pretty boring watch. The most we ran into was some strange rustling… thing running around camp for a half an hour. It disappeared when I threw a rock into the woods after it."

"As long as I still have all my limbs." Gwyn replied as she held up her hands as if to count her fingers.

"I only have six of my fingers." Yawna replied, studying her three fingered hands playfully, "I thought you said nothing happened."

"Shush." Var'Jun growled good naturedly.

"Well, where to first?" Gwyn had finished cloaking the existence of their campfire, "We need supplies… badly. And the only close place I can think of it Stormwind. Maybe if Kat and I went in and you waited outside a bit."

"Could work unless you girls take too long to buy your dresses." Var'Jun dodged a swat from Kat who seemed as annoyed with the troll as ever. He stuck his tongue out at her and moved back a pace to hide behind Yawna.

"We won't." Gwyn sighed and transferred out her small pack. Is was a meager amount of money that she carried before but what she had recently been stealing from Thralk had come in handy.

"We'll have quite enough. Hopefully they won't recognize us from the refugee camp. They saw us with you, after all." Gwyn grabbed Kat's arm swiftly and began to pull her along.

* * *

An hour later the sun found the trolls, tauren, and the undead underneath a copse of trees near the Stormwind path. Days like these were not often found, the warm air curling through the branches with a light breeze. Var'Jun had a floating, pleasant feeling and he was remarking airily of his race and the people he ruled over with a bit of nostalgia.

Something flew out from the trees and hit the troll square between the eyes. He blinked and looked down at the small pebble that had landed in his lap.

"You now what that looks like?" He picked up the rock to study it, "That looks like the little pebble that I threw at the rustling thing in camp."

"How right you are." A snarling voice hissed from the trees. Out of the bushes strode a small imp that was clutching a ball of flames in it's hand. Behind it came a tall undead and behind that another. Soon the small copse was teeming with undead. And not just any undead, all were warlocks.

A void walker seized Var'Jun from behind while another pulled Yawna's wrists together. A cackling succubus wrenched Mekora clear of the ground before he had time to speak.

"Can't the demon woman grab _me_?" Var'Jun requested in a high and whiny voice.

"Shut up." a warlock in front growled.

"Not a nice word." Milla sniffed softly as she squirmed in the grasp of an impudent little imp.

"Hm… 4/6ths worth." Thralk surveyed the group as he stepped into the light, "Does this mean I won?"

* * *

Heh heh, there we go! A cliffhanger for the one that I did not put in last time. More surprises in store too. Sorry it took me that long, even. Just got the Harry Potter book and I had to finish it! 


	25. Have Hope

Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft. But if you look hard enough around the role-play boards you might find me lurking around there as Cleavehoof.

A/N: Hah! Being on vacation with no computer is like being locked in a dark room where you can watch people having fun through a small window. And that was exactly what happened…. Maybe. Yes, I went on vacation and thus couldn't be around for a while. Then I hit a snag when I tried to work out the details on how Thralk gets around so damn fast. I got that now. Yay!

**Oreo,** Mekora is really cute. I cant put my finger on it. So strange, but he's so loyal to Yawna. And…. Dear, dear, just read the chapter.

**Youkai** yah Milla is just as cute as Mekora. And that's just what Var'Jun thinks about. He can't help himself, he has hardly any internal monologue.

Good for you **Crimson** you hit the 42 mark. I'm only on 30. -- Nice to see you back.

Yah **Old Guy** some chapters have to be dull in order to progress. This one is not.

Don't worry **Yeth** I use worse language. But Thralk is always losing them. He does have plans though, oh the plans he has.

Yay **Starwolf** I have stalkers. Wait, that might be bad. Heh, heh .:hides:. All the things you listed are answered in this chapter. 'Cept for Kat getting her memories back. You'll have to wait for that one. I also play, in case you were wondering, Cleavehoof the tauren on Sarumar.

And thanks to **Kyn and Blood and Honor.

* * *

**

Chapter Twenty-Five: Have Hope

Thralk was smiling with pleasure. He had caught them once again. He would not underestimate Yawna again. She had proved great power was in her back at the Holocaust camp. This time Thralk would have something to show for his efforts.

One of the warlocks near him shifted. She opened her eyes and turned to face the summoner.

"Someone approaches."

Thralk's lip curled up in a snarl the rotting flesh could barely hold. He sniffed as the imp scampered back to the warlock that had given him the news. Supporting both the group of warlocks and the captured prisoners might prove a strain on his power.

"You will have to follow behind me." Thralk hissed at the head warlock, a formidable undead with a good head on his shoulders, "I can't afford to lose the ground carrying your dead weight."

The warlock sniffed and said nothing else, eyes down cast. No one messed with Thralk even if he did insult them. Most did not come out without some vital limb being burned off. The warlock enjoyed his arms and legs. And his tongue. Thralk was quite partial to burning off tongues. He enjoyed the gulping noise that was made when a person didn't have one.

Thralk marched past his group of corrupted mages to stand in front of Yawna. The tauren dwarfed him in size and the undead loathed looking up at her. He growled causing the void walker to force the huntress to her knees so he had a better position.

"My dear, it bothers me that you are elusive. I thought for sure I had you when you had been in my own camp for little more than two years."

"Your soldiers are not as loyal as you thought?"

"Not really. They seemed to have been moved by your serene and uplifting aura. Too bad for them. I had the entire camp slaughtered."

Yawna remembered the young guards that had watched over her. The children still in the camp. The soldiers who listened to her nightly for inspiration. All dead? The tauren paled.

"You know, at one point I sought to kill you to continue my plans. But maybe you would make a more powerful ally. What do you say Yawna? We could be powerful beyond belief."

Yawna drew back, her emerald eyes level with that of the undead's. Fiery red met with cool green for just a second before Yawna reacted to the proposal as best as she could.

Thralk snarled in rage when Yawna drew back her lips and spit in the undead's face. Wiping saliva from his already slimy countenance the summoner seethed with anger. He brought a hand up which caught the huntress under the chin. A line of trickling blood ran down her face.

By this time Var'Jun, Gwyn, Mekora, and even Milla were screeching and growling. The troll warrior, being closest to Thralk, lashed out with his long legs and hit the small of the Forsaken's back.

The warlocks stood nearby, unsure of what to do without orders from their leader. Thralk remained strangely quiet when it came to commanding his men, however, deciding instead to take this by himself.

"What you do now is only going to make it harder for you when I decide to deal with you." Thralk was loosing his usual calm, short temper sparking in his eyes. He glanced from Mekora, the undead rogue's eyes staring frantically at the ground, to Milla who was crying softly and watching him with a burning gaze of fear and fury.

Thralk chuckled almost insanely, a decaying, clawed hand reaching down to the small child and petting through her mane of hair slowly.

"Her skull is so thin." Thralk remarked almost conversationally. Yawna and Var'Jun both froze, Mekora looking up with surprise and Milla letting out a small sob. The tauren and troll exchanged glances.

"Don't you dare-" Var'Jun began, feeling suddenly extremely protective over the young of his race. The muscles in the wiry troll's arms began to tense but the void walker held fast, iron-like grip unable to be broken by the warrior.

At that moment something came rushing through the trees, the brush and debris snapping underfoot as the creature built up speed.

Weary Traveler launched himself from the trees. His muzzle opened wide in a vicious snarl. The fangs that lined the wolf's mouth glinted dangerously in the air for a second before the steel-trap jaw closed down on Thralk's throat.

Thralk screeched, the warlocks reacting immediately. Weary Traveler hung onto the undead's throat, ripping his head back in forth once in a while. Something such as this would have killed Thralk if he were not already dead. Instead the enormous amount of pain made the Forsaken summoner lash out at the wolf, Weary Traveler held fast though and was slowly grinding his teeth up the rotting flesh.

Yawna summoned the familiar cold power into her hands and burst it forth in a bright splash of blue light. She let it seep back into the earth and as she melded the magic to her own whim a geyser of steaming water jetted from the earth behind her and scalded the void walker. Even as she did the tauren stumbled. Pain seared across her body for a fiery moment, the pain of her enemies felt through her own muscles.

But Yawna recovered quickly. Another few jets of water took out the succubus holding Mekora and the void walker and imp who were keeping Milla and Var'Jun. The troll scooped up the younger child, supporting her in the crook of his arm and hacking away at the void walker now, broad sword beating a tattoo into the insubstantial flesh.

Yawna had taken out her axe, the bone ready to cleave through skulls and taste blood. But the tauren couldn't, her hands shook and sent tremors shifting up her arms. Thralk had finally managed to beat Weary Traveler off. If the undead had any blood left it would have been pouring out in turrets.

Using the blunt edge of her axe Yawna beat her way through the crowd of warlocks that had gathered around the wolf. She felt the blow every time it hit her enemies like a dull pain, a toothache rumble. There were fighting a losing battle, the warlocks and their demons too numerous to be battled off.

Thralk snarled. Through the fighting warlocks he spotted Mekora, the undead locked in a fierce battle with one who could have been his brother. Thralk remember his promise of vengeance, slowly creeping through the crowd to reach the rogue…

Yawna was fighting the leader of the warlocks. The undead was overpowering her, a long sword held near the tip of the tauren's face. Thralk had said that the leader had a good head on his shoulders. But then it dropped.

Yawna blinked, then writhed in anguish as the captain was decapitated in front of her. She winced, stepping backwards and shaking violently now. Arrows began to pepper the warlocks, barbed tips tearing at flesh and even breaking bones with the force they were shot.

A lanky elf was beating away joyfully with a long, slender sword. Behind her Yawna could see rows of night elves supporting bows, shooting down into the crowd while skillfully avoiding the defenders. Yawna spotted Gwyn among them keeping Kat close to her and directing the bowmen away from Mekora, Var'Jun and Milla, and Yawna.

Thralk snarled ferociously as his soldiers fell around him. With one last look at his losing side he fastened his hands around Mekora's neck.

"If I can't win then I will have _something._" He snapped, raising one hand and watching the sky for something.

Yawna froze, yelling desperately and trying to catch Gwyn's attention. She had seen Thralk avoid the merrily-killing night elf on the battlegrounds and snatch Mekora up from the battle.

Something rose over the tree line, a wide wooden disc that seemed to fly on it's own. The disc was at least a half-foot think and ten feet in circumference. Around the edges were a few leather straps, some hanging off the edge and others fastened down tight. Underneath the disc was a slight rim that formed a bowl. As the wood landed Yawna felt a gust of hot air rush from beneath it.

"What the hell." Var'Jun, still clutching Milla tight to him, seemed almost at a loss for words. Milla mumbled about 'dirty words' into his shoulder but was too afraid to look up.

"Hot air…" Yawna remarked suddenly, "Thralk's rising that with hot air…" Yawna had never seen the goblin's zeppelins but if she had the prospect of Thralk using the same principle on a chunk of wood still would have dazzled her. Did his ingenuity never cease? Yawna suddenly felt as if she would be battling him forever.

A frantic warlock, fresh from the battle and desperately trying to avoid going back in, pushed his way through the bodies of the dead. As he passed by Yawna and Var'Jun the warlock struck out with his sword, scraping it across Var'Jun's ribs and catching Yawna's arm.

As if he thought this was enough to please his master the warlock went running on. Var'Jun barked, clutching his chest and taking an ill-aimed swing at the warlock with his sword.

Thralk had reached the disc, an arrow sticking from his arm and his throat mangled and torn. He had paused to cauterize the wolf wound with a blast of heat to prevent his own death but anger was still fresh and angry in his mind. Behind him he dragged Mekora, the rogue struggling to get away but already wounded and losing strength.

Yawna plowed forth, trying desperately to catch up with the rogue and summoner. Her axe was of little use to her, Yawna knew that she could never kill. But as she ran for the two undead her hooves stumbled over a rock. For a precious moment, on the tauren didn't have, she looked down at the rock and her brain whirled. Picking it up Yawna hefted the heavy stone at Thralk.

The rock caught the summoner in the leg. Growling Thralk turned around, stumbling and losing his hold on the rogue. He clenched a fist, fire glowing around Yawna's legs and hooves. While she howled with pain and tried to beat down the fire Thralk scrambled on to the disc with a few of his warlocks and began to rise it, his hand fastening over the collar of Mekora's shirt.

Mekora wriggled as they rose and when the disc had just reached about eight feet of air height Thralk lost grip and let go. Mekora could have escaped right there, fallen to the ground and got away with minor injuries. But by some miracle of chance, some horrible miracle of chance, one of the leather straps hanging off the disc fastened itself to a hole in the undead's collar and he was stuck tight.

Yawna heard him screech as he was lifted over the tree line and out of sight. She summoned the water from the ground once again, dousing the fire and leaving her only slightly scorched. But the smell of blood hit the tauren with a burst of sickening pain that jolted up her legs and arms. The warlocks who were left behind by Thralk were fighting even fiercer now that they knew their leader could not save them.

A wash of pain came over Yawna once more when she felt the warlocks' desperation and death. They were fighting hard, maybe hard enough to defeat the elves that had come to the defender's aid. One came up behind the stricken Yawna, raising an axe high above her head and smiling maliciously.

Everything went black…

* * *

Yawna felt something cool and wet rest on her forehead. She sighed softly, allowing whoever was there to comfort her.

Someone was singing in a soft baritone voice. Yawna could hear Taurahe, her native tongue soothing her better than any medicine could have at that point. She recognized the words immediately, it was an old Tauren song often sung by nomads.

_I have hope for you my child, my child._

_For the war you might never have to know._

_I pray for you my love, my love._

_For the times peace plateau._

_I wish for you my heart, my heart, _

_That you may begin anew. _

_I long for them my soul, my everything. _

_The carefree times with you. _

The voice faded away softly and behind it Yawna could hear the voices of her companions. Milla was trying to sing along, substituting her own made up word for those of the tauren's language. Yawna caught several female voices she didn't recognize with Gwyn among them all talking in fast Darnassian that her head hurt too much to translate. Behind this she could hear the endless bickering of Var'Jun and Kat.

Yawna opened her eyes slowly as she adjusted to the bright sunlight streaming through what appeared to be an open roof. For a moment she was glancing at the expanse of bright blue sky and the clouds like seed pods floating through the air on feathery stalks. She sighed.

Then something blocked the tauren's view. She sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes to make sure she was seeing what she really thought. Another tauren?

"You should not be sitting up." the calm voice spoke softly, the tauren in front of Yawna smiled warmly and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to push her back on to the bedroll she had been leaning against.

"What happened?" Yawna's head burst with new pain before it slowly receded away. She winced as it did but slowly pushed it out of her mind and continued, "The warlocks and Thralk and… Mekora!"

"Shhh," Var'Jun stalked over, his face a mask of psychotically pain. Regret and sorrow washed over Yawna in great waves as the Awareness once again noted the trolls depression. He and Kat had been fighting.

As he walked over the troll clapped the tauren on the shoulder, smiling raggedly before crouching down near Yawna and sighing as his back cracked.

"You owe him a thanks Yawna," Var'Jun smiled at the bull sitting next to him, "Ahusaka saved your life. And he certainly made a dent in the warlocks."

Yawna blinked, studying the tauren critically for a moment. He was tall and brawny, a wide chest and thick muscles bunching along his arm in ripples. His dense fur was the color of dirt after rain, a deep coffee color. His rich chocolate eyes were downcast humbly at that moment. Two thick black horns poked from his deep tawny mane and a braided beard ending with a brass ring dangled from his chin. The tauren was clothes in heavy leather armor that smelt like fire and home. He was carrying a heavy staff on his back as thick as a sapling tree.

Yawna held out a three-fingered hand, smiling graciously at the tauren. "You have my thanks."

The bull blushed slightly and grasped her hand. "It was not a problem." His voice was deep and intense as his eyes.

An elf in the distance called out, sweet tones from the night elf pouring over the small area they were in.

"We need a healing wave over here. Melui is suffering."

"Ah," Ahusaka stood hastily and nodded deeply to Yawna, "I am needed. Maybe we can speak later?" With that the tauren meandered off, heavy hooves pounding on the wooden slats that made up the floor to the room they were in.

Yawna looked around slowly. The abode they now resided in was all wood. The boards on the floor were waxy-smooth from so many feet traveling them and the walls were scuffed and worn in a pleasant homey way. Bedrolls, cushions, and mats littered the floor to create a comfortable space. A small fire burnt in the middle surrounded by large chunks of stone to control it. The smoke from it rose up to the semi-open ceiling and leaked through the cloth that formed it.

"What happened?" Yawna repeated.

Var'Jun curled his legs under him in a more comfortable position before smiling raggedly and gesturing around with a bandaged arm.

"After Thralk left the warlocks got desperate. There weren't enough of them, they knew that. They would all have been shot and killed or taken prisoner. But for some reason Thralk had equipped them with some damn gnome explosives and the warlocks turned mad. They detonated the bombs too close to themselves… and us for that matter. The carnage was horrible. We lost at least three elves right off and wounded a huge amount of others. Another five died from their injuries last night."

"The elves Gwyn brought us refused to fight after their comrades had been wounded. They wanted to go back and tend to them before they died. If Ahusaka hadn't come you and I would have been worm meat. He beat them back like nothing I've seen before using that ruddy tree stump eh calls a staff. Heh, he seemed pretty smitten by you, fighting over your body after you had fallen."

Yawna looked away for a moment and Var'Jun actually chuckled this time. "C'mon now you used to tease me all the time. It's pay back now."

"So we are where the elves live?" Yawna asked finally.

"Sort of. Gwyn has contacts near Stormwind. They call themselves the 'Oei Mahora' or 'Those Unbound.' They're some strange elite group of elves who have branched of from the Night Elves alliance with the other factions and consider themselves somewhat godly. They look down on other races and seem to find us like little children who need to be protected. They're not hostile but they don't seem to favor us being here."

"We've been here for just a night now. Ahusaka never left your side and Kat and Gwyn have been around tending wounds. I went hunting so the elves would lighten up on their talk of starvation, they were afraid we'd eat everything. I'm not wounded badly as some. You took a nice blow to the arm and you were covered in burns though I suspect the Awareness had something to do with your mysterious sleep. Kat has a few burns on her arms from the explosions but they are healing quickly and Gwyn only received a few cuts."

"Where is she?" Yawna sat up now, heedless of the pain that burst in her head to fade away again. Suicidal warlocks apparently made a bit of a dent on the Awareness.

"Gwyn's off talking to the leader of the 'Oei Mahora.' He's the only male I've seen here and I think they must have known each other before. She's awfully bitter towards him."

"An old love?"

"Maybe." Var'Jun sighed. Yawna caught his eyes, roving slightly across the small room, to rest upon Kat. She gave the troll a pat on the shoulder.

"She'll come around Var'Jun. Somewhere in there she has to remember something of us. Maybe she just needs some reminding."

"She's doing all in her power to try and be who she used to be since I told her. But she's acting so hostile towards me since I didn't give her that last piece of the puzzle. I know you don't think this is for the best but… Thralk wouldn't give pause to harming her if he knew that it would hurt one of us. And I need no one to have blackmail over me. I have my people to think of as well."

"What happened to Weary Traveler?" Yawna clenched her teeth hoping the brave wolf was all right.

"No worried there." Var'Jun smiled, "Your wolf ripped out Thralk's throat and only sustained minor injuries suck as bruises. One of his legs was fractured but the elves have put a splint on it. Thralk's warlock's couldn't get a good hit on him for fear of hitting thier leader. Weary Traveler's resting somewhere by the fire right now, the lazy mutt." Var'Jun's voice was admiring though.

Yawna nodded, her face creasing into a worried look. Someone was missing though. With a jolt the tauren remembered.

"What of Mekora? Was he spotted?"

"I'm afraid not," The troll really did look sorry, "Some elves scouted down where Thralk had flown off, on Gwyn's orders of course, but they saw nothing. There's no telling where he could be now or what Thralk's doing to him. I'm sorry Yawna."

The tauren nodded, her eyes downcast. Ahusaka's voice in the distance made her ears perk up. Who was he, and was he to be trusted?

* * *

Thralk crooned softly from the doorway. Mekora winced into the corner of the large room, the cold stone icy against his face as his heart hammered a tattoo into his chest. The stench of fear seeped into the air and the summoner breathed it in delightedly. It gave him strength, this fear, and power beyond what Mekora could have imagined it did.

The rogue, chained to the wall effectively with thick steel cuffs, whimpered and looked up glassy-eyed at his once master. Thralk was holding something that Mekora had only heard of, but something that was whispered like a nightmare amongst the soldiers.

It was a whip of plates of stone instead of leather or even metal plates. Fashioned by unknown causes the deadly weapon could be spread through with flames under the summoner's control and never melt. Rockbite, the name dubbed to Thralk's chosen device of torture. He curled it through his hands lovingly, marveling at how the miniscule plates of stone, some as thick as his finger winding down until they were no wider than a whisker, moved so smoothly.

"Mekora," Thralk purred, "You could be powerful. And I could help. Come now, I've had high hopes in you for a while."

"No…" Mekora faltered, "You never knew me before I went with Yawna."

"Maybe that's what you were told, but it's a lie." Thralk was close now. He ran a finger almost lovingly over the rogue's face. Rockbite curled around Mekora's neck, loose and pleasantly warm. The rogue whimpered again.

"Why won't you tell me Yawna's plan?" Thralk's voice dripped with honey. He stroked the undead's back, smiling as this ran shivers of fear down the rogue's spine.

"B-because she is a m-mother to me." Mekora's voice trembled with terror.

"I could be a father, brother, and kin you desire. Tell me what I need to know."

"I can't."

Mekora felt Rockbite tighten around his throat and the stone began to heat up.

"Then you will suffer."

* * *

Yay! A new character! I wanted to call him the Native American word for 'tall bull' because that made sense but it turned out to be Hotuaekhaashtait and that didn't exactly roll of the tongue easy. Instead Ahusaka's name means 'wings' because I felt he' be a sort of guardian to Yawna. There's a bit of history for you.

Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. Summer is full of surprises. Though they aren't always good. Painting houses is a bore.


	26. Under Foot

Disclaimer: Warcraft isn't mine but I think I did find a piece of it buried in my back yard. Blizzard sued me for the charges…. --

A/N: Here I am again sitting on my computer during a day where I could be doing something far more productive. Oh well, I'm fifteen what do I care? I must warn you though, it is raining and I was warned before not to write in the rain. It produces depressing stuff. But New England is experiencing a bout of rain and I can't very well stop writing because of that, can I? No! I will continue and sigh for you all.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Under Foot

* * *

Thralk studied himself intently in the scuffed and dirty mirror. A snarl tore from his lips, long and beastly as if the very wolf that had ruined his throat was concealed within him. Thralk had never been a very good looking undead as undeads went, but now that his throat had been torn to shreds and then cauterized it made him all the worse. Small bits of flesh hung in ribbons from what was already a mess above. Where his jawbone was the bone peeked through tattered skin and supported a tissue-thin layer of melted muscle.

The summoner touched a delicate finger to the skin, raw and irritated the muscle pained him as his claw-like appendages brushed over it. Snarling to himself again the summoner took up Rockbite and gritted his teeth at the door to the dungeon. There were things to be done.

As he entered the summoner heard the pathetic skittering sound of something trying desperately to hide back in the shadows. Thralk chuckled loudly and stepped into the dungeon. Under his feet the stones were slick with blood, it was a wonder the inhabitant wasn't dead yet. But Thralk would not allow this for long.

"Mekora?" His voice was almost loving in the way it called as if he was worried for the wellbeing of the undead rogue, "Mekora where are you? Come now, you have no reason to hide from me."

The sound of clinking chains could be heard as the rogue struggled to pull himself into the light. Thralk smiled as he saw the rogue, kneeling down and petting him on the head as one would an animal or child.

"Dear Mekora, you subject yourself to this."

The rogue shivered and Thralk couldn't help but smile wider at the sight of him. Mekora was covered in oozing burns, bruises, and cuts. Where there was now open flesh it was stained purple or green or brown. His skin dripped from numerous blisters and one of the rogue's hands was missing. His legs had become tatters of bone and skin and most were lying elsewhere across the dungeon. The rogue's face remained almost untouched though, with only a few scratches and bruises. His eyes were livid with horror, glazed over with endless pain and suffering. The rogue sobbed softly.

"I c-can't t-t-tell you…" he cried out as Rockbite brushed across the wounds on his back, lightly burning the slices, contusions, and already charred areas of his body. Thralk was starting small, for he knew mental torture was a big part of any pain.

"And why not?"

"B-because she needs to stay safe."

"Why do you betray your own race?" Thralk let Rockbite fall with a heavy snap over the prone form of the rogue. He screeched out and Thralk breathed in the pain with expected joy.

"It's going to doom you, you know this right? You will die alone without her and then where will you be?"

Mekora didn't answer for a very long time. Thralk waited patiently for the response, his sick face twisted into a grin of malice which split his countenance in two.

When Mekora finally did speak his voice had lightened as if borne on wings. His bleeding countenance lit with an almost divine understanding and peace.

"I'm going to heaven."

Thralk hissed as if stung and snapped Rockbite over the rogue's back with a sneer. His grimace only widened when the undead at his feet did not cry out. Instead he brought his hand, or what could have been his hand if it were not now a severed stump, to rest against his face with a look of peace.

"Who would tell you such a thing? Lies fling from their mouth, spiders from their webs!" The summoner was infuriated although he had already guessed who had told Mekora this distasteful atrocity.

"Yawna." The answer was a simple one, Mekora's face softening and becoming faraway, "Yawna told me I would go to heaven. I don't fear dying anymore. She said that all the undead who were good would be there. She told me my mum would be there. She's in heaven Thralk. She's guiding me." The rogue's voice was no longer shaking and even though he shivered with slight pain, pain that felt as if it were far away, his eyes held peaceful rapture.

Thralk screeched, whipping Rockbite over and over upon the rogue until the summoner could barely see anymore, a splash of blood shielding his deep-set eyes. Throwing his cloak about him the undead stalked from the dungeon leaving the rogue only just clinging to life.

"Who is Yawna to tell my soldiers they will go to _heaven_," He raged, spitting out the last word as if he were cleaning filth from his mouth.

"Heaven is a lie!" He roared at the guards to the dungeon door, the summoner suddenly fearing that they too had been told this. The two undead stood stiffly, fear flashing through eyes that were usually so brave in battle.

With a fitful sigh the summoner stormed back into his chambers, the immense heat of the room blasting over his face without warning. This might have been able to melt flesh if Thralk had not already been able to control fire. It sifted around him instead, a low growl welcoming the summoner to his room.

Thralk smile when he saw the Demon Wolf curled up like a young pup on it's bed of bones. The creature was staring with open, eyeless sockets at the summoner, raising it's head in the perverse manner of a faithful dog and letting it's jaw drop open as if it would have panted with joy had it had a tongue.

Thralk laid a gentle hand on the hard skull of the creature, smiling as the flames that were harmless to only him lapped up around his bony wrist in an attempt to be even closer to it's master.

"Beauty." Thralk crooned. The Demon Wolf was the only thing that the undead had ever loved in this life. Caressing the creature's thick head he clucked like a reproachful hen.

"I believe it is time to check on the progress of my assassin."

* * *

As the days past Yawna regained her strength. The elves were helpful if not a little haughty. They were most often preoccupied with other goings, their elusive leader never in sight. Gwyn was often missing for prolonged times too, slipping off into the brush with the stealth only elves and rogues could master. She would come back in one of two extremes, either looking immensely pleased with herself or cursing and brooding moodily.

Kat took quickly to the elves, learning from the healers among the group what different herbs of the forest she could use. She seemed to be taking well to the fact that she had been separated from her previous village though she still put down any attempt of contact with Var'Jun.

The troll spent his time hunting or scouting, feeling almost useless among the elves. When he was not trying to pry a few words from Kat the troll was often seen sharpening weapons. On off days he would take Milla out with him when Yawna was not watching her, acting a fatherly role and teaching the troll child of her heritage.

Milla had already expressed her desire to be a healer. Putting in her blunt, childish way that she wanted to 'help all peoples.' Yawna taught her what she knew of herbs but even despite Milla's childish cuteness and charm Kat refused to educate one of her enemies.

When unoccupied with other occurrences Yawna learned about Ahusaka. She had first stumbled upon the tauren in a secluded part of the forest, arms raised as if praising a hidden god. From the ground sprung a small wooden structure which belched fire in a small wave. Ahusaka chuckled.

"You may come watch if you please." The tauren called in his rich voice, Yawna blushing an stepping from what she had though was her hiding spot.

"What are you doing?" Yawna's curiosity overwhelmed her ability to be humble. The fire washed over her feet harmlessly with nothing but a slight prickling sensation like that of a numb limb.

"I am a shaman." Ahusaka waved his hand lightly and another similar edifice sprung from the ground. Thin one pulsed green, giving off the faint sound of wind chimes and blowing leaves. "Calling upon the Earthmother I am granted a small piece of her power in order to create totems and alter other areas of the life around me."

Yawna smiled almost sadly, the totems glowing opposite in front of herm, blazing red and cooling green shared by each soft eye. The huntress did not feel compelled to tell Ahusaka of what she knew of the moon and Earthmother. Her Awareness had been yet to reach any signs of outside light. Yet the totems were endlessly interesting.

"How come the fire doesn't hurt me?"

"You are an ally. I do not wish it so, so it passes over you."

Weary Traveler shuffled from the woods, grinning sheepishly and depositing a broken arrowhead at the foot of his master. He accepted a short pat from Yawna before sauntering away, sniffing the air near Ahusaka and snuffling shortly.

"You are a huntress then." It was more of a statement than a question. Ahusaka seemed more amused than anything else by Weary Traveler's interrogation.

"Have they… Have my friends explained what kind of situation I am in?" Yawna faltered. She had expected this to happen. Soon they would have to move on. Everyone had recovered to their fullest and Yawna desperately wanted to save Mekora.

"Not truly." Ahusaka shrugged, "Your companions have hinted to something strange and I did notice that you are vegetarian." The tauren dismissed the totems with a wave of his hands and focused on the huntress.

Yawna sighed, beginning to explain her childhood and the Awareness. Soon she had explained in depth the happenings of the past two years and the prophecy that hung over her head. Yawna felt strangely as if she could trust him, the tauren shaman listened with complete concentration to the facts presented to him.

At last when her tale was completed Yawna sighed and braced for questions flooding her ears like rain drops. After a few seconds of silence Ahusaka began to laugh softly and then louder and louder until his deep voice filled the forest clearing with resounding echoes.

"You aren't a very good hunter, are you?" He demanded after calming down.

"I suppose not."

"What a mad quest you are on. Sounds like great fun."

* * *

Elves are fast runners. They have lithe bodies that don't tire easily and are able to easily navigate through the leafy areas of their forests. But when an elf runner arrived at the Oei Mahora camp she was breathless and exhausted, leaning against a strong sapling that seemed to bend to protect her.

Another Oei Mahora elf came forth and conversed with her in soft Darnassian before her face drained of it's usual healthy glow and she went rushing into the room that had been forbidden from the guests.

After a few moments an unfamiliar elf came out. It was the only male of Oei Mahora Yawna had seen and she blinked as if she thought he might be a mirage. The fair elf had high cheekbones and ears that rose above his head instead of spreading out behind like those of the usual elves.

"High elf." Var'Jun hissed out.

On his other side Gwyn growled uncharacteristically, likewise angered by the appearance of the high elf. She did provide his name though, spitting out the syllables as if she were desperate to rid her tongue of them.

"Ornis."

As the high elf reached the runner he too spoke in the soft elven language. He showed no signs of shock, instead shaking his head in an almost melancholy manner.

He began to speak then, his voice loud and rolling like thunder across the plains of Mulgore. Gwyn translated as fast as she could, her face pinched with worry. The end result sent a ripple through the crowd. It was a rough translation received by those like Var'Jun and Kat but it was enough to suffice.

"My comrades. The runner has just informed me of dire news. The humans, our Allies in this battle, have declared a war of their own upon the Night Elves. They claim that they have been setting the fires that have been erupting in our villages as well as theirs. Already the dwarves have branched from the humans and battled with the gnomes. Similar fights are happening on the Horde side. Our alliances are in great danger."

Yawna's hands shook. This was bad. This was so bad.

"I propose we call to arms," Ornis continued, "This is our chance to strike all factions and show that Night Elves and Even High elves should only associate with the pure race, only elves. If we gain enough forces and send an emissary then maybe we can keep the elves separated."

At this Gwyn laughed loudly. Ornis paused, his face hardening and turning to look at the elf with a dark glint in his eyes. In the silence Gwyn strode purposefully forward through the crowd of elves until she was level with Ornis.

"Have you not been listening to anything that I've been saying?" Gwyn demanded in common speech, " Fighting to stay separate is not the answer. Together we are strong. So what if the gnomes, dwarves, and humans are different? We elves have always retain dour culture. It is your race who hates all. You are no better than the undead who drive away their allies."

Ornis drew himself up tall and also spoke in common.

"Why should we not be by ourselves? We don't have to fight this war."

"But when the rocs are knocking on your door then where will you turn? Who will you ask for help?"

"No one, the elves need no help."

"That is a blind answer."

The crowd seemed to sway from one argument to the next. Their voices were quiet as they conversed but the point was clear, they too were undecided. Var'Jun gave Yawna a warning look. Thing could get dangerous quick. Kat, a little ways down the row of people, was watching Gwyn as if she were mad and Ornis as if she had just seen something unpleasant like a dragon or ogre. Ahusaka remained watching with intent eyes.

"You have no more power here Gwyneth. You gave that up long ago."

Yawna blinked. Gwyn had once been part of Oei Mahora?

"Only because you banned me," Gwyn was building up a head of steam now, her eyes flashing dangerously, "Your pompous overbearing attitude and your jealously lead you to throw me and my mother out on some crazy mission to bring back the other races when you despise them. And even when we requested your help you only sent us the elderly elves that you said would make an excellent council. The Caravan died because of you."

Ornis glowered and growled with rage that was uncharacteristic of him.

"If you would just listen to me instead of always wanting to do things your way, woman, then your mother might still be free and happy and those that died in the Caravan might have easily made it."

Var'Jun snickered softly. Yawna turned to watch him. There had not many times before been such an inappropriate time to laugh. Fixing the troll with a stern glance she shook her head as he stopped and snorted softly.

"They fight like troll lovers. Loud and angry."

Yawna turned back to see the feuding elves now, still locked in a play of words and snide remarks. Var'Jun was right, that was exactly how they fought. Yawna suddenly understood why the two fought with such venom.

"Or separated lovers."

"Aye," Ahusaka agreed quietly.

Unfortunately a true verdict was never reached. Ornis instead walked quickly off the stage, braking rough orders of movement to the assembled elves in Darnassian and disappearing behind the curtains to his room and staying silent.

Gwyn sighed and walked away from the shifting masses of Night Elves. When she was received back at Yawna's side she just shook her head, mumbling about walks in the forest and traipsing off.

Var'Jun paused a moment, switching his lovelorn gaze from Kat into an amused grin to Gwyn's disappearing back.

"After all the grief she used to give me about Kat and I." Var'Jun began to stealthily follow her. "My turn."

* * *

Gwyn paused in a lit clearing, her teeth clenched tightly together with irritation.

"Stupid, damned Ornis," She growled to herself, "Who does he think he is?"

"A figure of authority over you considering you used to have an intimate relationship with him."

"Shut up Var'Jun, I am in no mood for you."

"Quite a shame," Var'Jun chuckled as he sprung almost madly around the clearing, " I was never in the mood for you when you wanted to chide me about Kat and give me a woman's look on the whole thing. Now I'm here to give you the man's."

"Please," Gwyn grumbled as the troll stopped in front of him, "How could you even think on the same level as Ornis?"

Var'Jun pulled a pained expression.

"Why Gwyn you hurt me. After the time we've spent together you still think as me of the inferior brained troll with nothing of intellect to offer? How tepid. One does not become the commander of your whole race without the added advantage of intellect."

Gwyn avoided his gaze.

"I'm sorry… this whole thing just has me flustered Var'Jun. I never wanted to see him again and yet I need his help once again." Gwyn sighed softly, "Why is he so arrogant?"

"Look in a mirror," As Gwyn's temper began to flare again the troll laughed quickly, "See how it feels? Besides, the reason he's so arrogant around you is because he wants to prove how manly he is. That and he's a high elf. How did you end up falling in love with him anyhow. I thought you said your love died."

"He has to me."

"Stop being so stubborn. One day he'll be gone and you'll appreciate him more. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Look what happened to me."

"Well I don't want to accept that."

"You'll have to. I have a feeling things are going to get even more complicated."

Gwyn shook her head and suddenly smiled at the troll.

"Did Yawna put you up to this?"

"Nah, I think I've grown soft."

"The humans are going to east you alive when they find you."

"At least I'll be tender."

Var'Jun took out his sword and twirled it to make himself feel a bit better. Kat was sticking to his mind along with all the problems that his royal position faced.

"I should head home and sort out my race."

"We will come."

"I appreciate that."

"And what will you do if Kat never comes around?" Gwyn asked with sudden concern, "She might stay this way forever."

"Then that is how long I will wait."

The two began to walk back to camp in a mutual silence that had come with their companionship. A strange glow emitted from the trees on their side and Gwyn blinked.

"I wonder what that is."

"Let's take a look."

A large Tauren was hunched over the side of a root, eyes fixed downwards on a puddle giving of a strange blue aura.

"Ahusaka."

"Let us not disturb him," Gwyn pulled the troll away, "Some things are best left private."

Var'Jun grunted and followed the elf, his ears pricked as he caught a few mumbled words from the tauren.

"I think Yawna's taken a liking to him."

"You think?"

"It's only natural. She did say she lost a loved one in her home's fire."

"Do you trust him."

"Time will tell."

Back by the tree a loud chuckle passed through the elf and troll. It was from Ahusaka, but so cruel and mirthless the two could hardly recognize it.

"Keep a special eye on Yawna, Var'Jun, just in case."

"I am far ahead of you, elf."

* * *

Sorry there have been no updates as of late. My computer was damaged in the rain at the beggining and took three weeks to fix. After this my dog had to be given away and I wasn't much in the mood for writing. I hope that I am forgiven. School starts tomorrow and I promise another chapter soon. I also apologize for all the missed author responses. There wasn't enough time if I wanted to post this tonight. There will be more next chapter. So sorry. 


	27. Breaking Point

Disclaimer: Warcraft doesn't belong to me. I can't even beat the stupid thing…

A/N: Ah, finally I am able to update on my own whim after a long awaited return of my computer. I've been doing a lot of roleplaying too on both http/s13. CityofShadows/index.php?actidx (no space between City and the /) and http/s12. LostRealmsofArann/index.php? (no space in almost same place)

To **Kyn** who has waited patiently, I hope. Ahusaka and Mekora will both be revealed soon though some of these you might not be too fond of. But I have the story all planned in my head and will do as such. I do need an editor but with everything that happens I always finish a chapter and can't wait another second to get it out. I'm like that. Inspiration? Really?

And to **Starwolf Magic**, **Crimson Reaper, Oreo, Doom Reaper, and ****Anghammarad

* * *

**

Chapter 27: Breaking Point

It was like all thought of natural reality and order had been pealed away. Tow-Moons once, in an attempt to expose her to new cultures, brought her a peach from the trolls. The fruit was sweet and juicy and Yawna had tried to save the dozen she had received for a long time in order to preserve them. But the very last one, kept in a small leather, water-tight satchel in a cold well, was over ripe by the time she reached it. When Yawna picked up the peach all the skin fell away and the flesh inside was slimy and grainy.

That's what reality was now. Unprotected. The soft, bright skin had been peeled back to expose reality to what it really was: a slimy, rotten thing. Yawna closed her eyes for a moment and let the feeling of despair leak away. There was no time for this right now. There were far more important things at hand.

The griffins swung to the side, massive leonine end curling up and thick eagle wings slanting to catch a helpful updraft. The creatures let out a few shrieks of joy, they truly were children of the air. Small animals below scattered and Yawna chuckled as her Awareness picked up a smug amusement from the griffin she was seated upon. They took great delight in making themselves known.

"Shut up you ruddy beasts," Copperbeard roared behind the procession. He was seated on a griffin of his own, for once Yawna's mail had gotten to Cairne the Tauren chieftain had sent transportation immediately. One of the only dwarves on their side Copperbeard was perfectly suited to taking his massive birds anywhere he pleased having no other family than the catbirds. You could tell he wasn't truly angry by the way crow's feet gathered at the corner of his eyes.

The beasts were headed for Sen'Jin. After Var'Jun had gone off to find Kat and the others Mitka and Gar'Ihn had moved the base of operations. Sen'Jin was open and unthought-of, no one would guess that troll nation had gone there. But to tell the truth Sen'Jin was perfect for them. The area was open and flat, they could see opposing armies around for miles. Sen'Jin was abundant in flora and fauna to supply them all. It was guarded by a few powerful witchdoctors and was close enough to the capital to avoid making a long and grueling retreat if necessary.

Yawna looked at Var'Jun quickly. He was so preoccupied with the thoughts of returning to his people that he seemed to have almost forgotten his stressful ordeal with Kat. He snuck one glance at her before going back to talking in a hushed voice to Milla, the little troll girl sitting in front of him. She had been given a fake set of reigns that would not control the griffin and was now pretending to steer the giant creature. Yawna chuckled, Var'Jun had been telling Milla about their homeland for a days now. She was so excited to see it.

But this visit would not be all fun and games. Var'Jun, despite the fact that he seemed confident and collected, was really going to Sen'Jin to make out his will and prepare his people for battle. If Var'Jun were to die he would have to choose a successor. Yawna's Awareness picked up uncertain dread from him.

They had all agreed (apart from Milla that is) that the little troll would stay in Sen'Jin. She was so small and innocent, there would be no reason at all to keep her with them and get her hurt. Yawna and the others were adamant on this.

Ahusaka was flying beside her. He had insisted on coming. At this Yawna was surprised, most didn't want to be involved. But Ahusaka was stubborn, dogged as it turned out. He gave Yawna a roguish wink and she blinked, turning away with a slight blush under her fur.

Kat was not too keen on going to the troll village, but Gwyn was absolutely repulsed by it. She had refused to even admit that she had agreed to this earlier. Elves were not the best of friends wit trolls. Neither were they with orcs or undead or the like, but trolls especially. She hadn't truly been right since they had left the Oei Mahora. She had not met eye to eye with Ornis yet.

Weary Traveler whined suddenly. He was strapped to the seat back of Yawna, laying down on supply packs and a wool blanket. His keen yellow eyes fixed below where he could see a wild boar strut across the red sands. Yawna chuckled as he licked his lips, a thin line of drivel slipping from his mouth and falling down in a clear, shining line.

"He is eager to get there." Ahusaka observed, a smile touching his lips. "I'm sure that he'd enjoy a bit of meat."

"The trolls will have to give it to him," Yawna responded, recoiling at the thought. Half of her twitched with a sense of pain and guilt. Hunters were supposed to bring down kills to feed their pets and themselves.

"I don't eat meat." Yawna felt ashamed as soon as she said it. She had never been so self conscience before like this, but now she just felt so open and naked to everything around her, so exposed.

"Small world," A smile creased Ahusaka's face, "Neither do I. I have certain spiritual beliefs."

Yawna felt a little more at ease.

* * *

Sen'Jin was very close now. The details of rough huts came in full clarity. While Gwyn scoffed noiselessly Yawna chuckled. From an Alliance point of view these buildings were only minor, small little huts that could be easily burned to the ground and overtaken. Yawna knew better than that. The trolls could defend these things with tooth and claw.

Var'Jun's face brightened by even the sight of the villages of his people. Rather than wait till the griffins landed his leaped from a five foot height as the beasts slowed down and charged through a hefty sand dune.

Trolls flooded from the huts, small children and old, hunch backed elders. Grim males lost their faces of stony silence to see their prince rushing forwards. Woman laughed with joy, hefting young babies higher on their hips and facing them towards their leader.

The trolls met Var'Jun in something that resembled a hundred person bear hug. Var'Jun's wild mane of hair, the coiling braid of deep night purple, was the only thing visible within the crowd.

The griffins landed but Yawna was too preoccupied with prior thoughts to get off the creature. She suddenly remembered when she had first met Var'Jun, the leering yellow-eyed, unfeeling animal who had whimpered piteously at the band of Alliance not to kill him and asked who would have missed him. Yawna was burning with curiosity to find out why Var'Jun had run away from these happy people, but she could think of no way to ask it without seeming nosy.

She must have sat thinking for a second too long because Ahusaka was laughing softly ad offering her his hand to aid her in slipping off the griffin.

"Lost in thoughts, Feathers?" He asked her, using the pet name he had come up with for her after remarking that sometime her head was 'lighter than air' and the only thing he could think of was feather. Floating without consent or purpose and always being swirled and turned without their wits about them.

"Yah, I'm fine," She took the proffered hand, slipping off the griffin and turning to smile at Copperbeard. The insatiable dwarf was watching the trolls with a look of bemused annoyance on his face though behind it Yawna could see he was rather amused by their antics.

"Will you stay and take a rest Copperbeard. I'm sure the trolls wouldn't have anything to say against it."

"Nah," the dwarf stroked his beard and chuckled lightly, "Cairne has a million and one things to do for me and someday soon I might like to get the time to visit my family before the war."

"What war?"

"The one the elf was talking about." Copperbeard replied almost tersely, saluting the group quickly and flying off on his hulking griffin. The others followed suit, feathered wings pumping up and down to catch an up draft and the lion and bird hybrids gaining altitude. Only Yawna's and Kat's stayed because they were not yet empty, squawking and looking longingly at the sky.

Gwyn turned away quickly as if she wasn't willing to talk about this. Truth be told she was only muttering to herself when the dwarf had heard. Gwyn wasn't sure if her dream about the major battle had been some cryptic warning or a vision that meant nothing, something induced by sleepless nights before hand and danger and tension around every corner.

Kat dangled hesitantly from her griffin before taking a deep breath as one would when plunging into cold water. She leaped off finally, putting on a brave face and nodding to herself. Since leaving the elves she had become more determined than ever at becoming her old self.

"I want to be who I am," She had told Yawna fiercely, "Because right now this is a lie."

Yawna could not agree with her more, but it still felt wrong and sick. Even when she was pretending to accept the Horde it was wrong. These were not her beliefs, they were not her own dreams and hopes. Var'Jun was almost pleased when she had put her all into it. Almost, at least. He too seemed to feel the stab of her hollow try.

"Well then," She was trying to be cheerful, "Lets go then." Her face was nothing but apprehension when she glanced at the mass of trolls. They had broken from their tangle and were now exchanging small talk with their prince.

Yawna finished unlatching Weary Traveler and the griffins took wing, glad to be away from the ground and water. They preferred the sky and clouds and their dwarves master.

Yawna and Ahusaka walked side by side in front, Kat seeming to take refuge behind the two as one would hide behind a parent after angering a particularly violent sibling. Gwyn was far in front, wrinkling her nose slightly and watching the trolls with a rather distasted expression. Elves did not like trolls.

And in the middle of Ahusaka and Yawna, Milla watched her

Var'Jun greeted them with a smile as large as one of the peeled bananas that would be found in the trolls' food.

"It's good to be home." The troll remarked, eyes blazing bright glory. Var'Jun was prince once more.

A new couple of trolls were coming closer. They had been late to the procession, partially because they had been extremely busy, as they had been when he had left, and partially because they were just so damn used to seeing him.

"Mitka! Gar'Ihn!" Var'Jun was like a little kid again.

The two trolls paused for a moment, both sets of flaming red hair leading Yawna to believe that the two trolls might be related. Beside her Milla stirred, she knew better. It was troll intuition. Just the way the two walked next to each other.

Mitka snarled like an animal and seized Var'Jun around the throat. Gwyn placed a hand on the hilt of her sword, looking around at all the other trolls to see their reaction. Even Kat shivered a bit, watching with saucer eyes.

Var'Jun only laughed.

"Swamped with work?" Var'Jun asked genially, his voice a bit hoarse.

"Yes!" The male troll looked like he was going to snap the prince in half. The female chuckled, loosening his grip and shaking her head.

"Now Mitka, killing the royal family is often frowned upon."

"I suppose so," Mitka snorted, putting Var'Jun back down (he was considerably bulkier and had lifted the prince up.) Var'Jun smiled even wider and threw all three trolls into a wild bear hug.

"Always knew you'd stick up for me incase he wanted to do away with me, Gar'Ihn." He was a whirlwind, moving on from one thing to the next with reckless abandonment. But now it was time to be serious. There were pressing matters at hand.

The trolls exchanged a few quick orchish words and Var'Jun motioned to the rest of the group. Yawna too Milla's hand, Ahusaka catching the other one, and the group sidled through the crowds of trolls now heading back to continue building homes. There would probably never be enough lumber.

* * *

"Is that her?" Gar'Ihn inquired curiously. She was glancing at Kat with a mixed expression of apprehension and thought that seemed to consume her thoughts. Mitka snickered and smiled fondly at her.

"Yah," Var'Jun's eyes softened slightly as he watched her. She was walking ahead of him, eye drinking in the rich scenes of the Durotar shore. Their destination was a small sea shack on the side of the rolling ocean.

As the troll entered with his friends in two he felt a strange nostalgia seize him, shaking him about like a rag doll and throwing him into ribbons. He let out a soft dry noise that was almost a sob, but not quite. Vision of Meh'rah were here, Var'Jun's mother who he would never see again. Thralk had taken her away. He would pay.

It was Var'Jun's old summer home, this little place of sea and salt. He could feel his mother here, everywhere around Sen'Jin. He had never truly lived here but much of his life had been spent vacationing in the beautiful lands. A rusty fishing pole against the wall made Var'Jun choke back another one of his dry noise.

Father…

"Down to business." All could easily be seated at the open porch to the home. It was comfortable, a breeze rolling in from the oceans and tickling through the minds of the council.

"I would like to begin by addressing the royal line. Knowing full well I might never have a son or daughter to pass the crown to I have decided that if and when I finally die then I will pass on the ruler ship to Crota."

Both trolls cried in shock.

"We couldn't," Mitka began, "That is your right to choose, I understand that, but why her? She's cruel and full of malice."

Var'Jun paused.

"I didn't want to give it to you," He said softly, "Because of the pressure that would put on you both. Do you realize what that would forfeit? Your whole lives would-"

"Oh stow it." Gar'Ihn snapped, "We would bear it with honor."

The prince couldn't manage to say anything, only smiling widely and making a small note on the bundle of papers he carried. His will, more or less.

Mitka paused as if rolling the words he was about to say around on his tongue. After a few seconds he seemed to decide on them, lips twitching slightly as he spoke them.

"What about Sikoro?"

The quill Var'Jun was holding snapped in half as his clench upon it tightened. A drop of ink splattered across arm and he let it dry there. The air tightened and thickened as the silence dragged on. Finally Var'Jun spoke tersely.

"Don't you _ever_ suggest that again. Don't _even_ say his _name_ around me." Shaking his head Var'Jun smiled down at Milla.

She was looming around the table, slipping underneath it and popping up in random places. Once in a while she would startle someone but mostly they could hear her coming a mile away by her fierce giggles. She had not even noticed the tense situation.

"Milla, why don't you go out on to the beach? We can see you from here and you might find sea shells or hermit crabs." Var'Jun was trying to get her out of earshot. But what was obvious to an adult was not to a young troll. She went scampering off with a big grin plastered on her face.

"Well we might as well say it," Gwyn leaned back in her chair and smiled slightly sardonically at the troll prince. She wasn't really in the best of moods.

"We can't keep Milla with us. And frankly we have no where else to put her. Someone here's going to have to keep her."

"Don't be blunt or anything." Yawna remarked, shaking her head and watching the little girl down on the beach. She could feel her joy and innocence. A welcome refresh.

"I'm sorry, this is the only way to ask." Gwyn sniffed softly, "And besides, we might as well not sugar coat this. It'll be a miracle if any of us pull through this. A miracle I tell you. And now with the races fighting it'll be harder to muster together an army."

"An army?" Both Mitka and Gar'Ihn demanded lucidly from their end of the table.

"Of course," Yawna replied in a sangfroid detachment, "How else would you combat another army? Fight fire with fire."

* * *

The feast planned that night was magnificent. It was held under the open sky, stars and smiling moon. The trolls had set out every dish imaginable which ranged from roasted wild boar stuffed with apples to a tart pie full of peaches, something that could only be identified as a scorched raptor still complete with teeth and claws next to a dish piled high with fruits and glazes resembling Orgrimar. The whole thing was so immense and unbelievable that Yawna felt as if she was under some strange spell the entire night. She danced with Ahusaka and ate all of the dishes in front of her, sparing meat of course, enjoying the lush breeze of the spry trolls.

There was only one not enjoying the festivities.

Var'Jun.

The troll's head spin with worried that could only be interpreted as royal fears. His usual suave and saucy attitude was replaced by something that represented the stringent, wry face of a monarch. Instead of sitting down at the table with the others he was standing on a small balcony, the sea spread out in a turquoise blanket in front of him, shifting slightly whenever the moon pulled the covers.

There were a million things that could go wrong with these plans, but even Yawna had been convinced that only an army could stop and army.

Or had she?

Var'Jun paused, thinking slowly about this. She had been the one to make the suggestion but he remembered the look on her face.

"The less innocents that die the better, eh Yawna? You are not the angel they say you are." He would never had said it straight to her. No one was perfect. Var'Jun regarded Yawna as close to it. She was something else, not troll nor tauren, nor orc, nor any other race on Azeroth. She was new.

Var'Jun was so lost in his mutterings he did not hear the swish of skirt ends or the soft pattering footsteps in measured paces across the rice-plant floor.

When Kat finally did alert his attention from the sea and his thoughts it was in the form of a touch on the arm. It was a barest hint of a whisper tough, a butterfly's brush per say. But Var'Jun noticed immediately.

"What are you doing?" He asked, neither light nor harsh. The human looked like she would have rather bitten her own hand off than to touch him. But she had nonetheless. Var'Jun welcomed the comfort from her, the woman who had once been Kat. But he also hated her, this false Katherine woman.

"You looked… Sad.. You're not with your… people." Even Kat knew it was forced when she said it. The pauses in between and staccato response seemed to make the troll's face drop. Kat clenched her teeth harder.

'_I _will_ be what I once was.'_

"I am lost in my own thoughts as they are theirs. The time in which we choose to muse over them appears to be different."

"That is not how you usually talk."

"You want to know the truth then? The whole bitter truth with all the gory details and blood-spattered explanations?" He was baiting her, or at least half baiting her. Var'Jun almost hoped she'd forget this. It wasn't Kat. Katherine shouldn't have to take these responsibilities.

Kat hesitated. Her resolution rang in her head but the revulsion of what she had once been made her want to cringe. How had the Katherine she had once been fallen in love with the gruff troll? How? But she could almost imagine herself caught up in his daring. It made for a very pretty fairy tale.

"Yes," She replied finally, "I want to hear it all."

A smile cracked over Var'Jun's face only to be washed away just as suddenly. His pupils dilated in their felid of yellow and the troll turned to face behind her.

Kat turned as well at the terror on his face. Leering from the door frame was a sallow skinned troll woman with a thin jeering face and eyes that seemed to coddle in all the hatred of the races and wars. Her hair, not the usual flaming red of trolls but rather a deep burgundy, hung slightly over her eyes.

Behind Kat the troll prince gulped.

"Ah, my liege." Crota acted the epitome of a willing servant. Her smile twisted over her teeth in a latticework of anger and jealousy but it was pushed back neatly under the rug and concealed under the fabrics of her own loyalty.

"Well met." Was all Var'Jun could manage to respond with. Her beatings had done more to him than he had ever expected but he was stronger than her now if not physically than mentally. He could withstand her.

"Not exactly," She replied with false respect Var'Jun could have never proved, "We seem to have spotted a large mass of bodies moving this way."

"An army?"

"What would you call a large mass of moving fire?"

* * *

A/N: Alright, alright. I said I would get the next chapter out soon but die to computer problems once more it was later than I expected. Forgive me please. Anyhow, done with all the boring stuff that I was writing into. Now comes the juicy parts! Think of everything behind that a prologue (a long one) and now we get real good. See you next time. 


	28. So

Er… Hello…

I have to ask. This may be a little bold, for me to do so, but I want to know. If I were to continue this, would anybody still be reading?

I feel terrible about waiting so long, falling off the face of the earth in the process. But if I were the update with new chapters would anyone come to read them?

Thanks,

BH


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